


The Way Forward

by MelikaJ



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Slow Build, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaJ/pseuds/MelikaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Jaime/ Brienne fic, based in an AU where Jaime's left hand is cut off instead of his right. No spoilers from the book, and this is rated T for some slightly adult themes. I'm hoping to continue the story every week, so watch this space, and please review! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Way Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Jaime/ Brienne fic, so I hope that you guys like it! There won’t be any swearing or particularly adult content, but I’ve rated it T just because of the themes in it. This is set in a slightly different universe where Hoat cut off Jaime’s left hand instead of his right, so he still has his sword hand. The story starts off in Harrenhal, a few days after the dinner with Bolton, but then takes a completely different turn of events to the books, so there won’t be any spoilers. I’m not sure whether to make it a one-shot or a longer story, so please review it if you want more chapters! :)

**Jaime**

“Let me go in,” Jaime hissed at the guard stood outside the door, though the refusal in the man’s face was already apparent.

“I was told weren’t no-one ‘llowed through,” the man growled back menacingly. Jaime sighed impatiently.

“Do you not realise who I am? Let me remind you. I’m Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, son of Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock.” The man laughed at that.

“No, let _me_ remind you who you are. A good for nuffink cripple, that’s what!” Jaime felt his good hand clench the dagger concealed under his tunic, but he didn’t pull it out, he didn’t want the guard to realise he was armed. It was clear that the guard didn’t care that Jaime still had his sword hand; the fact that he was maimed had removed any hope of his being able to intimidate the guard into submission. He had one more trick to try before resorting to violence, the trick that had always been just as useful as his combat prowess.

“I’m asking you to let me go through, good ser, and if you do, a pile of gold as tall as you are shall be awaiting you at the Red Keep. A Lannister always pays his debts.” The guard spat at Jaime’s feet.

“Pay back this debt, Lannis-scum!” he shouted as he pushed Jaime back, hard. Jaime hadn’t expected that, so he stumbled back a couple of steps. He could feel the familiar rage inside him, the rage he had never been able to control. A slow, angry smile fluttered on to his lips.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jaime snarled. Before the guard had a chance to react, Jaime had whipped the dagger out from beneath his tunic and slit the man’s throat, the blood already seeping down the front of his armour, reddening the flayed man sigil that marked him as Bolton’s man.

**Brienne**

“Ser Jaime!” Brienne breathed, shocked, as Jaime stumbled in through her door, dagger in hand.

“We haven’t got time to talk,” Jaime panted, grabbing her roughly and shoving her in front of him, so she could see the dead guard on the floor.

“What—”she began, but Jaime silenced her with a sharp look, as he started to run back the way he’d come. Brienne had no choice but to follow, knowing that even if they were caught trying to escape she’d most likely be killed quickly, rather than having to endure the rape that they’d probably had planned for her. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure that this was really happening, she’d been left in that dark room for days since the dinner with Bolton, how many she could not say. All she knew was that Jaime was to be going on to King’s Landing, and she was going to remain in Harrenhal. _I’m dreaming,_ she thought to herself, _Jaime would never have come back for me, why would he?_ He hadn’t said a word to Bolton after the dinner, so she’d assumed that he was happy enough with the deal. And why shouldn’t he be? He would be going back to his beloved Cersei, so what was she to him? Nothing but some woman who’d kept him prisoner. And yet despite her misgivings, she kept on running after him. Even if this was a dream, it was better to dream of escape, than to feel trapped even in her sleep.

**Jaime**

Jaime could hear the wind pounding in his ears, and his heart pounding in his chest. He hoped the wench was following, but he didn’t dare turn around to check, he had to keep running. He’d killed a guard that belonged to Bolton, if he was caught now, he’d lose more than just his hand. _Why did you kill the guard?_ a nagging voice at the back of his head asked him. He could have had an escort to keep him safe on the way to King’s Landing, but instead he chose to rescue a stubborn wench who never looked past the fact that he broke his oath to the mad king. He tried to convince himself that he was just repaying his debt to her, but he realised that that wasn’t all, and it frightened him to consider that he may have other reasons. He didn’t want to think about them now; he had more pressing matters to focus on, like surviving. He ran down corridor after corridor, relieved to hear Brienne’s footsteps thudding after him every time that he slowed to turn, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally saw the main gate ahead of him. He was amazed that they hadn’t run into any guards, but he supposed that Harrenhal was a big castle, and that it was short on men, Bolton having headed to the Twins with the greater part of his men just a day previously.

 

He was about to run out into the breezy air when he heard Brienne scream, his breath catching in his throat as he turned to see her in the clutches of two of the Bloody Mummers. She was struggling violently to get free, but they had a vice grip on both her arms.

“Run along now, Kingslayer, or we’ll gut you as well,” the larger one snarled. Jaime was too panicked to recognise either of them, but he could see the way they leered at her, the look on their faces, a mixture of disgust at her apparent ugliness, and desperation to fulfil their base instincts. They had no right to look at her like that, she was a highborn lady, and she wasn’t really that ugly, Jaime thought, not when you knew her. She was beautiful in her own way, and she certainly wasn’t theirs.

“You’ll let her go, or I’ll slit both your throats like I did the guard that tried to stop me from seeing her earlier,” Jaime said to them, trying to keep his voice level but intimidating. Despite his efforts to stay calm, he could hear the tinge of anger in his voice.

“We meant to be ‘fraid of some cripple?” the other man asked, before reaching to grab Brienne’s thigh. But his hand hadn’t even landed on her flesh before Jaime charged straight at him, grabbing the sword that had sat at the man’s waist, and balancing it in his right hand, pointing it at the guy’s throat.

“Let her go, and I’ll let you live. Keep your filthy hands on her for another second, and the last thing you’ll feel is this sword through your neck,” Jaime whispered in to the man’s ear. Reluctantly, the man pushed Brienne away from him. Jaime nodded slowly as he pulled the sword away, seeing the man’s face for the first time. It was Zollo, the man who had crippled Jaime all those weeks ago. “Never touch another woman again,” Jaime started, “Here… Maybe this will help you remember,” and he brought the sword down hard on Zollo’s arm, slicing the lower half right off. He relished the sight of it for a short moment, before rushing off through the main gate with Brienne, leaping on to a horse, and galloping as far away from that evil castle as he could manage.

**Brienne**

“Jaime. Ser Jaime,” Brienne called loudly over the sound of their horses hooves. “Just stop. We’ve been riding for hours, there’s nobody following us, we would have seen, we would have heard…” Her voice trailed as she struggled for breath, she was tired and hungry, they’d been all but starving her in that awful room that she’d been confined in. She was going to collapse soon, although she doubted that he’d care, no man had ever cared about her wellbeing before, and this was a man who had put a sword to his own king. To her surprise though, he slowed his horse to a trot before stopping altogether in the midst of the clearing. He secured his horse, as she dismounted from hers, but as he reached for the bridle of hers, she snatched it away so hard that the horse balked. “I can do it,” she snapped, leaving Jaime with his hand hanging in mid-air, as she tied her horse to the nearest tree. She could see that he felt humiliated, but a second later he gave her a charming smile.

“My apologies, Lady Brienne, I only meant to help.” What was up with him? He was never this polite to her. She decided not to dwell on it, she wasn’t thinking straight at the moment, she felt utterly helpless in the stupid dress she’d been forced to wear, and wished that she had her armour and sword.

**Jaime**

They didn’t speak for the rest of the evening and as it began to grow dark Brienne went out to collect firewood. Jaime would have liked to have helped, but most of the logs in the area were too big to hold one handed. He had given Brienne his sword to use so she could chop any that were too long, whilst he stayed in the clearing and tended to the horses. He could still do that just as well as before as the horses didn’t care about his stump, they didn’t look at him with that look of revulsion and pity that most people gave him when they saw it. _Brienne doesn’t give you that look either_ , he mused, reflecting on the fact that the wench hadn’t even commented on his stump since their bath together. It was like she had a newfound respect for him. She’d always hated him for being the Kingslayer, but now that she understood why he’d had to kill Aerys, he felt like she’d begun to forgive him. Jaime was glad of that, although he couldn’t quite pinpoint why she should matter to him, she was simply protecting him to fulfil her oath to Catelyn Stark— _he_ had no need to be grateful to her. And yet, he _was_ grateful to her, she had been company for him, and helped him deal with the loss of his hand, no matter how grudgingly she had done it. The point was that he owed her some gratitude for all the things she’d been through with him. “That’s right,” he told himself, “you’re grateful, that’s all this is, that’s why you saved her.” He ignored the odd feeling in his stomach that always came when he thought of Brienne. Thankfully he was spared having to dwell on his feelings, as he heard her footsteps as she returned with the firewood. She looked at him, and their eyes met for a brief second before she hastily moved to light the fire, and he turned back to the horses.

**Brienne**

“I’m cold, are you not cold?” Jaime asked her, as they sat across from each other at the fire. He’d been insisting for the past half hour that she should fan the flames a little higher so they could get more warmth, but she didn’t want to risk it.

“The trees are dense enough around here that this small fire won’t be seen but if we make it any bigger it will produce more smoke, and then Bolton’s men will find us.” She tried to disguise the shudder that her body made as she thought of what Bolton’s men had wanted to do to her before Jaime had saved her from her prison. She clearly didn’t hide it very well though, because whether Jaime realised she was scared, or whether he thought she was cold, he moved round the fire to sit directly next to her. She flinched as he put his good hand on her shoulder, and he hastily removed it. “Look, Brienne…” He trailed off, before continuing, “I don’t expect you to love me as you did Renly, but—”. She spluttered at that and floundered.

“What? No, I didn’t, we weren’t, I was just…” But before she could try and deny her feelings, Jaime chuckled and cocked his head mischievously at her.

“So, you really did love him? Interesting. No wonder he made you one of his Kingsguard, he was probably trying to ensure you didn’t try and marry him!” He laughed at his cruel jape, but stopped when he saw the pained look in her eyes. She watched as his features softened, and he spoke more kindly when he apologised, “I didn’t intend to upset you, Brienne, please forgive me. I seem to have lost my manners as well as my left hand.” She was about to tell him to leave her alone, when she noticed how genuinely sorry he looked. Jaime didn’t look genuine very often, he was usually masked with a false confidence, but tonight he seemed as honest as he had that night when he’d revealed to her the truth behind his nickname. She searched his face, looking for any sign that he was mocking her, but found none.

 

And then suddenly his face was growing closer, and his arm was back around her shoulder, and she could feel his breath on her cheek, and he was only inches away from her. Brienne started to panic, she could fight men twice her size, had suffered the brutality of the Brave Companions, but nothing she’d done so far in her life could possibly compare to the raw fear she felt now. He paused, so close now that she could see the thin sheen of sweat just above his upper lip. He was going to wait for her to make a move; he was waiting for her to let him know that she wanted this. Except she wasn’t ready, this was all happening so fast, and she had no idea how to feel about this man who she’d once hated, but who was now the only person left who cared. She saw him close the gap to her face, but at the last second she turned her head, and his lips just lightly brushed her cheek. He drew back, sighing in frustration. “Curses, Brienne! You never let me close,” he whispered, anguished. He stood up and walked back to the horses, but she could still hear him muttering “you never let me close.” Brienne had never been kissed before; no guy had ever truly wanted to be intimate with her, although a few had tried to kiss her for a jest. She always pushed men away, but she realised that tonight, for the first time, she regretted it. She just didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know the way forward.


	2. Now we're even

**Brienne**

Brienne took first watch that night. She didn’t much fancy being asleep while Jaime sat looking at her, not after what had just happened. To his credit, he didn’t challenge her; he simply nodded and went to lay beneath a large oak next to the fire, a few metres away from where she sat with the horses. Within minutes she could hear his faint snores, and she found the sound oddly peaceful. Brienne decided to use the tranquillity to listen to her own thoughts in her head- she’d kept them at bay so far, but now that she was truly alone, she figured that she should better work out what it was that she was feeling. She had pushed him away because that’s what she always did, but there had been a longing afterwards, a sense of regret. That certainly wasn’t usual. _Is it possible that I have feelings for him?_ She asked herself, _He’s the Kingslayer, if I had any honour I’d stay away from him._ Yet as she looked over at the man sleeping below the tree, she did not see a vicious oath breaker who had slaughtered the king that he’d sworn to protect, instead she saw a vulnerable man who’d lost a hand, yet still smiled whilst he dreamt. Brienne was starting to get cold, so she crept closer to the fire, closer to him. The embers were still crackling, yet quieter now than they had been. She could hear Jaime’s slow breaths, and she allowed the gentle rhythm of his snoring to calm her down as she rested near him.

 

She was starting to get groggy when she heard a new sound. At first she thought that perhaps the horses were getting restless, but then she realised that the noise was coming from the opposite direction. Her ears pricked as she sat bolt upright, listening carefully for the source of the disruption. _Crack._ That was the unmistakeable sound of a tree branch breaking underneath a horse. Bolton’s men had found them. “Jaime!” Brienne whispered frantically, shaking him roughly by the shoulder. His eyes met hers as he woke instantly. At first he looked confused, but then he heard the sound of hooves, and understood. “We need to move!” she said, running towards her palfrey. She could hear him following her, but before she had a chance to saddle and mount, a cruel laugh rang from behind them.

 

“If it isn’t the Kingslayer and his wench,” mocked a voice, as she saw three horses emerging from the shadows. As the firelight illuminated their bodies, she caught sight of the flayed man sigil on one of the men’s breast.

 

“Lord Bolton wouldn’t have been pleased to hear that you’d escaped,” the man spat, “but now I guess he’ll never have to know.”

 

“You were a fool, Lannister!” Another man shouted, “We would have taken you safely back to King’s Landing, but now you’re going to learn what happens when you cross a Northman.”

 

“Oh, I’m quaking in my leather,” Jaime purred sarcastically, without a flicker of fear, though Brienne knew that he was just putting on a brave face.

 

“Please,” Brienne began, “I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn Stark, I told her that I’d bring the Kingsl- Jaime Lannister back to his father, in exchange for her two daughters. You are honourable knights, I’m sure you understand. Let me keep that promise.”

For a moment the three men looked to consider her words, but then the closest man dismounted, drawing his sword.

 

“No,” he said, “that’s not going to happen.”

 

**Jaime**

_I am a fool,_ Jaime thought, as the man drew closer to him, _he’s right, I could have been on my way home, safe, had I not gone back for this beast of a woman._ Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt guilty. That ‘beast of a woman’ had saved his life so many times; this was simply him repaying the favour.

 

“Look, ser, I apologise for making you seem incapable in the eyes of your Lord, but I felt it would be dishonourable of me to leave the maiden behind. If you would just let us go on our way, I’ll see to it that my father sends gold your way, twice as much as we agreed. You’d be very rich men, all of you, and your Lord Bolton would be none the wiser. It’s the smart thing to do; you’re smart men aren’t you?”

 

“Smart men, aye,” the man agreed. “But loyal men, also. No crippled southerner is going to tell us what to do. Besides… Lannisters lie.”

 

“Lannisters pay their debts,” Jaime replied coolly.

 

“Like the debt you paid to that guard back at Harrenhal? What was his crime, exactly? Following orders? No, we aren’t letting you go free.” The other two men dismounted and stood next to their comrade, and Jaime heard the ring of metal as they too drew their weapons from their sheaths.

 

“You have two choices, either you both come back with us to Harrenhal, or we kill you where you stand. If your father wants his ransom then he can bloody well come and collect it. As for the bitch, she belongs to us, and rest assured,” the man smirked, “we’ll make good use of her.”

 

“NO!” Brienne screamed, leaping for the sword at Jaime’s hip. Before Jaime could grab her arm, she had wrested it from its scabbard, and was holding it as the three men laughed at her, evidently amused by the spectacle of a woman with a weapon.

 

“I like a woman who puts up a fight,” the ugliest one sneered, edging slowly towards her. Jaime could see Brienne tense up in her fear, which was just going to make her more predictable, and less nimble.

 

“Calm down Brienne, take it easy. Feel the sword, allow it to become you,” Jaime soothed encouragingly, surprising himself with his kind tone; he didn’t make a habit of being affectionate. Brienne didn’t seem to hear him though, so he could only watch in horror as the man swung at her, and knocked the sword right out of her hand. Fortunately the sword landed near Jaime’s feet, so he grabbed at it clumsily with his left stump, before remembering that he only had one hand now. Cursing, he picked it up in his sword hand, and raised it just in time to counter the man’s vicious blow. Suddenly, all three men were on him, the swords a song of steel in the crisp night air.

 

**Brienne**

 

Brienne watched in horror as the men descended on Jaime, seemingly forgetting all about her. _This is my chance_ , _I could run away and escape these men. I could forget all about Jaime, the Bloody Mummers, all of them._ But she’d sworn an oath to Lady Catelyn, and she meant to keep it. That wasn’t the only thing that made her stay, though. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d grown to care for Jaime himself, but she definitely didn’t want to watch him die. _I have to help him,_ she thought, looking around desperately for a weapon. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she had to do. Gritting her teeth she reached into the fire, drawing out one of the thinner logs. She could feel the flames licking at her skin, but she held on, stubbornly, running at the man in armour. She slammed the branch into his head, causing him to cry out in alarm, before she promptly shoved it down the gap in the armour on the back of his neck. The man dropped to the floor screaming in agony as the blaze took hold, causing him to drop his sword. Even as she picked it up, she could feel the pain as the hilt dug into her raw flesh, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. One of the other men had turned to face her, having heard his comrade’s screams. For a terrible moment she thought he was going to kill her, but as he lunged she managed to duck and shove the point of her sword through the leather around his stomach. He didn’t make a sound, apart from an abrupt gasp as he watched his guts bleed out through the wound, until his eyes glazed over and he fell next to the other dead soldier. Brienne dropped her sword as the agony from her burnt palm became too much to bear. She could only look on as she watched Bolton’s final man deal a particularly fierce slash towards Jaime, toppling him to the ground.

 

**Jaime**

His back hit the ground so hard, that Jaime was surprised that he didn’t hear any bones shattering. He saw his attacker raise his sword, and Jaime knew that this was his only chance to make a stand. With the last of his strength, he jammed hard upwards, closing his eyes as he felt it pierce the man’s chest. Blood dripped from the man’s wound onto Jaime’s face, temporarily blinding him. In those brief seconds, Jaime wasn’t sure if he’d done enough to stop the man killing him, but as he hastily wiped the blood out of his eyes, he saw the blurred motion of a body keeling over, and he knew that the man was dead.

 

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne whispered, as she reached out a hand for him, and Jaime allowed her to pull him up. Their eyes met, and he gazed into those beautiful blue orbs of hers, trying to understand how she felt, trying to get inside her mind.

 

“Thank you,” he replied courteously. “Were it not for you, I’d almost certainly be dead.” Brienne held his look for another second before turning harshly away.

 

“Now we’re even,” was all that she said, and Jaime knew that she had nothing more to say. She had put her emotional shell back on, and no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to break through. So he simply nodded, and repeated;

 

“Now we’re even.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ever so much for all your kind reviews, please keep them coming, they really mean a lot! I’ve decided to keep this as an ongoing story, and I’ll try and update every week, but don’t hold me to that :)


	3. Falling apart

**Brienne**

 

After a moment more surveying the scene, Brienne and Jaime wordlessly set to frisking the dead bodies to search for money. On the first two they only found a handful of coppers and silvers, but the armoured man had a gold dragon concealed in his sock.

 

“We’re rich!” Jaime called cheerfully, high on bloodlust. Brienne did not share that excitement; she killed when she had to, but she took no pleasure in it. Despite the fact that these men had tried to kill her, she didn’t even feel remotely happy looking at their dead bodies, she had simply been doing her duty.

 

“We should move on, Ser, there could be more of them,” Brienne replied, anxious to get going. She didn’t like being surrounded by death, it reminded her too much of Renly and how she’d failed him; how he’d died in her arms.

 

“There’s no rush, wench, I mean, Brienne. These men came alone, and there aren’t likely to be more following, certainly not for a while. You could take whatever you like of their clothing; get out of that dress I know you hate.”

 

Brienne had to admit that she did want to wear attire she felt more comfortable in, but there was no way that she would display Bolton’s flayed man, she’d rather be naked.

“I’ll take the leather breeches and the mail, but _he,_ ” she spat, pointing to the burned man, “can keep his armour. These men have tainted the honour of the North. I will not have myself identified as one of them.”

 

“The leather is worn on that one; you can’t see the sigil any more,” Jaime said helpfully. He knelt down, struggling one-handedly with the leather ties to remove it and give to Brienne as she removed the mail and breeches from the other man. She took the leather tunic from him gratefully.

 

“Thank you. I’ll just go over there and get changed.”

 

“No need, I’m an honourable man. I’ll close my eyes.

 

“It’s fine, I’ll feel more comfortable over there.”

 

Jaime cocked his head mischievously and smirked. “Why, don’t you trust me, Brienne?” He mocked, closing his eyelids and covering his eyes with his right hand. Brienne sighed, but nevertheless removed her dress, keeping her eyes firmly on Jaime to ensure that he didn’t peek. His hand never even wavered, and as soon she was decent again she gave him leave to open his eyes. “There, I told you I’d close my eyes. We can get going now.”

 

They made their way to the horses and Jaime clambered on to his destrier, still a little clumsy with just the one hand to haul himself up. Brienne gasped in pain as her burned palm scraped on the bridle of her palfrey, and she dropped to the ground, groaning.

 

“What’s wrong?” Jaime asked; concern in his voice rather than frustration.

“It’s… it’s nothing Ser, I’m fine,” she insisted, trying again to pull herself up, but tears came unbidden into her eyes as once again her hand screamed with agony. Jaime dismounted and moved over to her.

 

“Let me see.” He reached out to look at her hand, but Brienne flinched when his ruined limb touched her skin. He hastily withdrew it, hurt etched upon his smooth features. Tenderly, Brienne held his stump with her other hand, and moved it back to where it had been. They made brief eye contact before Jaime looked back to her hand. “Hmm, that looks like a pretty serious burn, still, it seems to have only affected the outer skin, so hopefully it’ll heal after a few weeks.”

 

“What are you, a maester?” Brienne asked, surprised at his apparent knowledge. Jaime smiled.

 

“When I was a boy, my father used to insist I spend hours a day reading. I hated it, I never had any talent for recognising words; the letters all seemed to jumble in my head. Still, he made me practice, day after day. Soon, I’d read most of the story books in Casterly Rock. Not that that’s saying much, there are few story books in Casterly Rock, my father has always preferred harsh reality. Anyway, I figured if I had to suffer all this reading, I may as well learn something from it, so I asked to read medicinal books from the maester’s own study. I read about fevers, poisons, and also burns. I learned how to identify them and how to treat them. And now, Brienne, I am going to treat your burn, so be a good wench and allow me to do it uninterrupted.” He winked disarmingly at her as he finished, and Brienne couldn’t help but notice the little flutter in her heart at that. _Grow up, he cares nothing for you_ , she thought, but nevertheless, she consented as he sprinkled some water from his own waterskin onto her wound, and wrapped a strip of cloth around it.

 

“There, all better now,” he said, raising her hand to his lips, and gently kissing the back of the cloth. “We can get going now.” And he turned away and strode confidently back to his horse, and Brienne had no choice but to follow. As her hand grasped the bridle again, she felt a slight twinge, but nowhere near as much pain as before. He was right, it was better now.

 

**Jaime**

As they rode on through the night, putting as much distance between themselves and the dead men, Jaime couldn’t help but look over his shoulder every few minutes to watch Brienne for a couple of seconds. She never seemed to notice, her eyes were firmly fixed on the path ahead of her. He liked that about her, her unwavering focus to whatever she was tasked with, she had more devotion than most knights he’d ever met. Her hand didn’t seem to be hurting her any more, and for that, he was grateful. _It would seem that all those hours reading books was finally worth it, if it means I could ease some of her pain_ , Jaime thought, before cursing inwardly. _Stop thinking about her like that! You belong to Cersei, this wench is nothing to you_. But as he looked once again at Brienne determinedly riding her horse, he sighed as he realised that was no longer true.

 

All his life he’d never thought about any woman but Cersei. He’d seen many other beautiful women while at court in King’s Landing, but none of them had ever caught his eye, Cersei was more radiant than any of them. But Brienne… She was something different. Not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, for she was too tall, too ungainly to ever be considered ‘beautiful’, but she was captivating. And those stunningly deep, blue eyes, Jaime felt like he was drowning whenever he looked into them. He felt like he wanted to protect her, but Jaime knew she didn’t need protecting, she’d proved that time and again. She was not in thrall to him, like so many other women were, but Brienne was his equal. _More than my equal when it comes to swords_ , an unwanted voice in Jaime’s head said. Much as Jaime hated to admit it, ever since his maiming, he just didn’t have the skill he used to. It made no sense, he’d never used his left hand to fight, but the loss of it seemed to have worn him down, and thrown off his balance. He no longer felt like a warrior when he fought, instead he felt like a talented cripple, and he hated that. He yearned to be whole again, but the stump at the bottom of his left arm was a constant reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never have again. _You forget about it when you’re talking to her._ Well, of course. The wench always demanded his full attention, she was so stubborn, and he always had to fight his case with everything. He never had opportunity to think about anything else but her. He remembered the moment earlier, just before he treated her hand, when they’d both looked into each others eyes. He remembered how absurdly happy he’d felt, how he’d felt comfortable with who he was— a moment of peace in a chaotic world. He never had moments like that with Cersei, with his sister it was always excitement, desire, anguish… Never peace. Jaime had just accepted that that was what he wanted from a relationship, his obsession with Cersei had defined him all his life, but that was the old Jaime, the whole Jaime. That was back when he had his hand.

 

After several more hours dawn came, and Jaime realised he was shattered, they’d been riding all night, and he’d had barely any sleep. _Brienne hasn’t had any sleep at all._

 

“Wench,” he called out.

 

“My name is—”

 

“Brienne, yes. I was thinking we should stop and eat. Maybe rest for a while. You should try and catch some sleep.”

 

“We don’t have much food and it’s morning, we should keep on riding. We’ll be able to move faster now that we can better see where we’re going.”

 

Jaime sighed; he’d almost forgotten how she had to argue with everything. Well, no matter, she was so sworn to her duty of getting him to King’s Landing that she’d stop if he did, so he reined up and dismounted his horse. He smiled cheekily as she did the same.

 

“We should keep on going,” she insisted.

 

“How’s your hand?” Jaime asked, changing the subject as he reached into his pack for a chunk of bread, and breaking it in two he offered the bigger part to Brienne.

 

“It’s fine, thank you.” The ‘thank you’ she said softly, gratitude evident in her voice as she reached out to accept the piece of bread. They ate together in silence for a while, until Jaime could no longer stand it.

 

“Look, about last night—”

 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Brienne interjected, hastily.

 

“Maybe not, but still, I feel that I should explain myself.” Jaime sighed, this wasn’t easy; he wasn’t quite sure where to begin. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot when I tried to kiss you.” He could see her squirm when he mentioned it, and he took an odd satisfaction in the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks. “I’m not like those other men, Brienne, I promise you that I would never try and force myself on you. I was in a very confused state of mind, that’s all; it had been an eventful day. I would never presume anything of you. You’re fulfilling your oath to Catelyn Stark, and that’s very honourable of you. I may be said to have no honour myself, but I do respect it in others… In you. I realise that your only interest in me is to get me back safely in exchange for the Stark girls, but last night proved that we work better as a team, so I suggest that we forget about my ill-placed advances, and just focus on getting home. It shouldn’t be more than a few days ride.”

 

“Yes. Thanks, Lannister, I, um, appreciate that.” She spoke very awkwardly, this was clearly a topic that made her feel uncomfortable, yet did Jaime imagine it, or did he see a flicker of sadness cross her face?

 

He himself certainly felt sad, yet he’d said what had needed to be said. He was a Lannister, and a knight of the Kingsguard. Besides, there was no possibility for romance. He was not allowed to wed, or father any sons, _a vow I have already broken_ , he thought bitterly. This maiden of Tarth was playing too much of a part in Jaime’s life already, he needed to make sure that she knew her place, and to remind himself as well. The sooner they got home, the sooner he could try and forget about her. He tried to assure himself that this was the right thing, but as he hauled himself on to his horse he looked behind and once again found himself staring into those amazing blue eyes of hers, and his resolve melted away, leaving him feeling empty.

 

**Brienne**

 

As they rode on through the rest of the day and into the evening, Jaime’s words kept playing around in her head: ‘I was in a very confused state of mind, that’s all’. She had become so sure that he was different, that he was unlike all the other men she’d met. No man had ever shown interest in her before, and yet for a whole night, she’d thought that Jaime had been able to see past her appearance, and had fallen for the woman she was inside. She laughed mirthlessly to herself at that. She sounded like a naïve little girl, whose head was full of songs and stories of valour. Of course Jaime wasn’t interested in her she was simply there, and he had wanted some amusement. The regret she’d felt earlier was replaced with relief; this situation would have been so much worse had she actually allowed him to kiss her. It would have broken her heart had she let him that close, only to have him reject her afterwards. He was right, the sooner they got to King’s Landing, the better.

An hour after the light started to wane they noticed an inn on the roadside ahead of them. They had been avoiding the King’s road for fear of outlaws, but it seemed that they weren’t the only ones taking this route. They could hear rowdy noises inside, and a few drunk men were sitting around outside. Jaime turned to her.

 

“Perhaps we should spend the night here? It would be nice to finally have a roof over our heads, and we have coin to pay for it. We could have a nice strong cup of ale, too.” Brienne had to agree, so she nodded in consent, and they pulled over. A helpful stranger pointed out where the stable was, and they tethered their horses, before heading inside.

 

“Two rooms please,” Jaime called cheerfully to the landlord, slamming a few silver stags on to the bar, but the red-faced man behind it shook his head apologetically.

 

“I’m ‘fraid that won’t be possible, we’re pretty full, only got one room left. That’d be 3 stags if you want it, and I’ll get you each a cup of whichever brew you fancy.”

 

“Ale for me,” Jaime raised an eyebrow at Brienne, “my lady?”

 

“I’ll just have water, thank you.” The last thing Brienne needed right now was to get drunk. The landlord passed them both their drinks and a little brass key.

 

“Up the stairs, first door on yer left.” Brienne took her water and the key too. As she sipped, she listened to the conversation of the men two tables across from her.

 

“The Red Wedding, they’re calling it, they say it was a massacre!”

 

“Aye, I always knew that Walder Frey was a wrong’un, but to slaughter his own guests? The King in the North and his lady mother too, dead, both of them. The North isn’t likely to forget this; they’ll be out for blood.” But Brienne barely heard the last bit as the cup slipped from her fingers and landed with a thud on the bar. She saw Jaime reach for her arm but by that point she was already up and thundering up the stairs to get away from the rest of them, her head barely able to focus and her feet seemingly running without instruction. She fumbled with the key in the lock, and crashed through on to the bed when it opened. There she just lay staring at the ceiling, her mind screaming silently as she felt her world fall apart.


	4. First Watch

**Jaime**

Jaime sat in silence as Brienne charged up the stairs, he too was still in shock at the man’s words, but unlike Brienne, felt no grief from them. He’d never had any love for Lady Catelyn, and had himself tried to slay Robb Stark when he’d encountered him in the Whispering Wood. Despite that, though, he had fully intended to deliver on the oath he’d sworn to deliver the Stark girls back to their mother, and felt a twinge of guilt at the fact he’d no longer be able to do that. Brienne, on the other hand, she was clearly distraught. She had served Lady Catelyn, and lived for her honour. Jaime wanted to console her, let her know things would be alright, but he assumed that he was the last person Brienne would want to see right now. He looked at the cup of water that Brienne had dropped, the last few drops trickling over the side of the bar. He steeled himself and rose from his chair to follow her. There was no way he was leaving her to wallow in her grief alone, he didn’t care if she screamed and punched him, if it would make her feel better then he’d happily suffer a few bruises, a life in the Kingsguard had prepared him for physical pain, it was emotional pain he had no clue what to do with, and he expected she was the same.

 

As he rounded the last stair, he saw their door ajar, the brass key still in the lock. He pushed it gently open, and noticed Brienne lying on the bed, still as a statue. He removed the key, and slowly closed the door. Brienne started as the door creaked shut, and she turned to look him in the face. Her usually beautiful blue eyes were glazed with tears, and it broke Jaime’s heart to see such a proud woman in this state. He didn’t know what to say or do, so he just stood there, unmoving, unspeaking. It was Brienne who broke the silence.

 

“Come to gloat, Kingslayer?” She hissed, standing. Jaime shook his head.

 

“Brienne,” he began, keeping his voice soft, in what he hoped was a comforting manner, “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I won’t pretend that I’m saddened by the news; Lady Catelyn held a sword to my throat and made me swear an oath against my will, and Robb kept me in a dark, putrid cell for months. But I know how much they meant to you, and I assure you I do not feel any pleasure from what’s happened. It pains me to see you like this.” Jaime spoke honestly, wanting her to know, _needing_ her to know that he was sorry for her loss. He’d hoped for some kind of a reaction from her, but she just stood, her shoulders slumped, defeat etched plainly on her face.

 

“I swore an oath to her,” she whispered helplessly, “I promised to bring back her daughters safely. What am I to do now?” Her voice was pleading, and Jaime realised she was beseeching him for advice. Unfortunately, he had none to give. He knew that men were supposed to hold women when they were upset, that he should let her cry on to his shoulder, that was what happened in all the stories. But Brienne was unlike any other woman, and he couldn’t picture her crying onto any man’s shoulder. Despite himself, he tried to imagine what it would feel like, to have her large body so close to his, to feel her warm skin pressed tightly against his own. He reached out and slid a finger across her cheek, wiping away the lone tear that had escaped her. She shuddered as he touched her, but didn’t pull away. He moved his hand to her shoulder, and for a moment he thought she’d let him keep it there, but in an instant she’d wrenched herself away from him, and moved to sit by the fire that was burning lowly in the hearth.

 

“I’ll take first watch.” She stated, devoid of emotion.

 

“We’re in an inn, the door’s locked, there’s no need for a watch tonight. We can both finally get some rest. You’re tired, you need to sleep.” But she ignored him.

 

“I’ll take first watch.” She said again, and Jaime had no choice but to retire to the large bed alone, as she sat and stared into the flames.

 

**Brienne**

_She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead._ She repeated the words over and over again in her head, as if by thinking them enough she could make them lose their harshness, as if she could stop caring. She shrugged out of her leather and mail, hoping to distract herself from the pain, but every time that she thought the word ‘dead’ the grief took hold of her anew, threatening to break her down into tears. She wouldn’t cry, she refused to. She was Brienne of Tarth, and had to remain strong, lest men think her weak. _One man in particular_ , she thought, glancing over at the shape on the bed, watching as Jaime’s chest rose and fell in time with his breaths. How she envied him. Jaime Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, a name all men feared, a name no-one would dare trifle with. He had always had everything he wanted, and seemingly cared about nothing, he was the Kingslayer, and years of being hated by everyone had hardened him. He would never have been so stricken by grief as she was. Even when he lost his hand, he’d allowed her to bring him back to his old self. But then she recalled that moment in the baths of Harrenhal, when he’d bared his soul to her, and admitted how much it bothered him when people reminded him of Aerys. When she’d heard the truth of it (she was certain Jaime’s tale had been true), she’d realised that Jaime didn’t have the cold heart she’d always imagined. She remembered what had happened last night, the way he’d brushed his lips against her hand after treating her burn, the way he’d looked in to her eyes and seen deep within her, the way nobody else ever had. _Stop thinking about him, it’s an insult to Catelyn’s memory._ She sighed in anguish; she always lost everything. First she’d lost her siblings, leaving her poor father with a daughter who more closely resembled a son. And then she’d lost her dear, beautiful Renly, with his easy smiles and words of kindness. And now she’d lost Lady Catelyn too, having failed to fulfil the oath she’d promised. Brienne felt broken and empty.

 

A soft _thump_ next to her stirred her from her bitter memories. She looked over and saw Jaime sat next to her, shivering slightly from the cold.

 

“What are you doing, I thought you were tired?” She asked him, suspiciously.

 

“I am.” He replied. “But you took first watch last night. It’s my turn.”

 

“I thought you said we didn’t need a watch? The door’s locked, nobody can get in. You said we should take advantage of the opportunity for rest.”

 

“Yes,” he nodded, “But I’m not going to sleep whilst you sit here, alone, and cold. That fire is tiny, and you’re going to freeze if you stay here much longer.” Brienne hadn’t noticed how cold she actually was until he mentioned it; now though, she could hear her teeth chattering slightly, and there were goose pimples on her skin. He wrapped his arm around her, and for once she let him, too tired to fight. Gently, he pulled her to her feet, and led her to the bed, and she went along with him without protestation. She lay down, and he tucked a blanket around her. Brienne wondered why he was being so sweet, just last night he’d told her how he just wanted to get back to King’s Landing. She’d assumed that meant he didn’t care about her, but as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, she started to have her doubts. She felt like a pathetic little girl, as he quietly sang a lullaby to her, the words drowned out by the crackling in the hearth, but to her surprise she found that she didn’t mind at all. She was tired of her bravado, she needed this one night to be vulnerable, to let slip the mask that she always wore, and to allow her pain to show so that she might get closure. Jaime had a beautiful voice, low yet smooth, _like honey poured over dynamite,_ she thought, closing her eyes and allowing the tune to wash over her.

 

“Ser Jaime,” she whispered when he finished, opening her eyes, and gazing deep into his emerald ones. “You don’t need to keep watch. You’re right, we don’t need a watch. You’d freeze by the fire.” Jaime walked round to the other side of the bed, and lifted the blanket tentatively.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked. Brienne looked at him then, really looked at him. She took in his silhouette, outlined against the dim light coming in from the curtain-less window. The way his forehead creased in concern, and his hand grasped the very corner of the blanket, waiting for her permission. He was not the evil Kingslayer tonight, nor was he the man who’d pushed a young boy out a window to hide his relationship with his sister. This was Jaime Lannister, the real Jaime Lannister, and this man was kind, caring and honest. This was a man who wouldn’t take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable, but who would instead help keep her from falling apart. This was a man who made her feel safe. So she simply nodded at him, and allowed him to slip into the bed, and he respectfully kept as far away from her as space would allow.

 

**Jaime**

He lay huddled against the blanket, not daring to move in case he disturbed her, he knew that he was in a delicate position, it had clearly taken a lot for her to let him in this close, he didn’t want her to regret her decision. But as he lay silently, he heard barely perceptible whimpers coming from her side of the bed, and along with her shivering, her body shook every time she sobbed. He desperately wanted to move closer to her, to comfort her, he couldn’t bear to see her like this. He shuffled slightly nearer, watching closely to see whether she’d tense up. Either she didn’t notice, or she didn’t mind, because she didn’t seem to have any reaction to him. Nervously, he reached out across the blanket, laying his right hand on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin through her thin tunic. She relaxed against his palm, and her sobs slowed, replaced with steady breathing. Jaime gently pulled her across to him, and she buried her face in the nape of his neck. He could feel the hot tears on her cheek, and they felt sticky against his skin, but he didn’t flinch away, instead he moved his stump over to hug her back, using his other hand to brush the hair out of her eyes.

 

“Sssh,” he purred soothingly, stroking her hair, “it’ll be alright.” She nestled closer to him as he held her. “It’s going to be alright.” He repeated, and after a few minutes, her tears stopped completely, and her breathing was interrupted by the occasional quiet snore. Soon, Jaime too felt grogginess take hold of him, and they fell asleep, entwined in each others arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the lovely reviews so far, they really mean a lot, and are the motivation for me as I continue this story! Please let me know what you think of this chapter :) Also, as I've already put this story on ff.net, I'm going to be posting the remaining chapters that are already up on there a day at a time, but after that then I'll try to update every week :)


	5. The Gallant Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos so far, please do keep them coming, they mean a lot!

**Brienne**

Brienne awoke drowsily, as if still in a dream, and kept her eyes closed at first. She felt comfier than she remembered feeling in weeks, but there was also a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, like something was terribly wrong. Slowly, she opened her eyelids, but was surprised to find that her world was still dark. Brienne took a deep breath in, and smelled tears… Her own tears. And then it came flooding back to her- Catelyn was dead. For a moment she was too pre-occupied in her thoughts to pay attention to the present, but then she was distracted by a shoulder moving and nudging her in the cheek. _The Kingslayer!_ She realised, shocked, that she was curled up against him; his handless arm protectively around her back, her face resting against his neck, his warm breath softly ruffling her hair as it escaped his partially open lips in his sleep. She jumped up immediately, dislodging herself from his embrace, whilst he opened his eyes, and looked at her.

 

“Brienne?” He murmured sleepily, as though only just becoming aware of her presence. Then she saw recognition in his eyes, and knew that he was properly awake. They just stared at each other as he pulled himself up and sat against the head of the bed, his tunic slightly sticking to him from sweat.

 

“Do you want to talk?” He asked tentatively, and she shook her head, wincing from pain as she did so; apparently grief had given her a headache. She couldn’t really remember much of what had happened last night, everything past the man saying ‘dead, both of them’ was a bit of a blur to her. She’d been feeling vulnerable, she remembered that much, and she’d woken up in bed with _him_ , it was a terrible dishonour to Catelyn’s memory. She wrinkled her nose, deeply ashamed at herself. Jaime seemed to sense her thoughts.

 

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Brienne. It was cold, we had to share a bed.” she felt a blush creep into her cheeks at his words, but he was seemingly oblivious to her embarrassment.

 

“Lady Catelyn took you as her prisoner, I was supposed to deliver you to King’s Landing. You were still a captive when I took you, and yet after Harrenhal, it was you who rescued me. I disgraced her by allowing us to be caught that first time, and she died, with me having not fulfilled my oath. And how do I mourn her death? By lying in bed with the man she despised.” Brienne spat, angry at herself.

 

“Do you think your Lady Catelyn would’ve wanted you to freeze to death, or to lie awake in grief? You needed comforting; I was there, so I comforted you. Is that really so wrong? I promised you that I would never take advantage of you, and I meant that, I’m a man of my word. All we did was sleep, so why must you look so disgusted?” Jaime shouted the last word, hurt evident in his face, so she turned away and ignored him, she was in enough pain herself, she didn’t want to see him suffering at her words.

 

“Please leave me alone for a while, ser.” She said, walking towards the window, but he didn’t move, instead she heard him utter a cold laugh.

 

“Ser? You hide behind your formalities. All we’ve been through together, and you still won’t call me by my name. _Jaime_. My name is Jaime. I bet no other man has ever even seen you cry, but I held you, dried your tears, and yet you still address me as ‘ser’. What is it going to take for you to let me close?” And she heard him turn on his heel and leave, slamming the door behind him, leaving her to be alone with her thoughts.

 

**Jaime**

“Wine!” Jaime called loudly at the innkeep, strolling to the bar noisily.

 

“What kind?” The gruff man responded, readying a glass. Jaime snorted.

 

“The strong kind.” The innkeep nodded knowingly.

 

“The wench giving you trouble? She did look a fierce one, I assume she’s not your lady wife. Didn’t seem much of a lady to me!” He reached out to pat Jaime on the shoulder, but he shrugged away, even angrier than before.

 

“Don’t talk about her like that! She’d heard some bad news, that’s why she seemed fierce. She’s just a powerful woman, and she has every right to be, it doesn’t make her any less of a lady. You don’t know her.” Jaime grabbed his drink and made to go outside.

 

“Aye, I don’t know her… But I’d wager neither do you.” He heard the man call after him.

 

As Jaime sipped his wine, he allowed the strength of the beverage to run through his veins, hardening him. Last night seemed half a dream, looking back on it. He took a large gulp, trying to clear his head, but the memories kept coming back. _She seemed so sad, so innocent. I don’t remember ever seeing Cersei that innocent._ He had comforted Cersei many a time, to be sure, but usually it had been a different kind of comforting, Cersei was a lioness, and he was her lion, their relationship was about strength, not vulnerabilities. He remembered bitterly when they had met the day after her wedding to Robert, and she had laughed at his jealousy, not caring about his pain. Brienne had never laughed at Jaime, she always tried to see him for who he was. She could look inside him the way nobody else could. Her eyes were always probing his, trying to see deeper. He’d opened up to her, and yet she’d always closed herself off. Until last night, when she’d finally removed her mask, and he had seen for the first time the true Brienne. He closed his eyes, remembering the way she’d nestled close to him, and he revelled in the connection he had felt. He was filled with a sense of completeness when he thought of the two of them asleep next to each other, so why did she find the concept so repulsive?

 

 _You’re a selfish idiot, Jaime._ He cursed himself, of course she was repulsed, she was grieving. He hadn’t felt anything at hearing of Catelyn’s death, but the woman had been almost like a second mother to Brienne. She was trying to get closure this morning, and all he had done had been to make it about himself. No wonder she had seemed so hurt. He winced as he realised that he’d shouted at her… He had to apologise. He poured the rest of his drink on the ground, and ran back up the stairs to their room.

 

**Brienne**

The door burst open, slamming against the wall, as Jaime came tumbling through.

 

“I’m so sorry, Brienne,” he panted, “I shouldn’t have made it about me, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

She felt some of her pain abide when he said her name. Catelyn had hated him, but that didn’t mean that he was a bad person. Brienne was grieving for Catelyn, it wasn’t like she’d simply forgotten about her. But Catelyn was dead, and Jaime was here. And she couldn’t deny that when she’d woken up this morning she’d felt a sense of peace that she hadn’t felt in longer than she could remember. So she turned to him and forced a weak smile.

 

“I forgive you, Jaime. I’m sorry too.” Jaime’s shoulders relaxed at her words, and the lines of tension in his forehead disappeared. He looked so beautiful, standing there, head slightly bowed, with a sliver of light coming from the rising sun, and illuminating his features. She wanted to tell him, but knew that she couldn’t, that she shouldn’t. Their relationship was complicated enough as it was, without her admitting her feelings to him. But she could admit them to herself, there was no point denying them any more. Somewhere along the line she’d come to see Jaime Lannister as more than just a prisoner, more than just a friend. She wasn’t sure what to define it as, only that she never wanted to be apart from him again. A sudden rush of boldness washed over her, and she strode to fill the gap between them, until they were less than a foot from each other. They were almost the same height, and as he raised his head, the blue eyes met the green ones, light flickering like little specks of emeralds.

 

“You didn’t disappoint her,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers “You did your utmost to keep your word, like she always knew you would. Nobody could hope for a more loyal friend than you.” And he scooped his hand around her neck, and pulled her down to his shoulder, and she finally allowed herself to truly cry, the tears pouring as she remembered the woman who had been her friend. And, like one of the gallant knights in the songs, Jaime stood and held her, rubbing her back as she silently screamed.


	6. Welcome home, Lord Jaime

**Brienne**

Brienne slowly lifted her head off his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes, as she wiped her own with her sleeves. He cocked his head to the side and used his stump to raise her chin, forcing her to look at him.

 

“You’re a strong woman, okay, don’t let this destroy you. We’ll work something out.” Her heart skipped a beat when he said ‘we’, but she tried not to let it show.

 

“Thank you, Jaime. You’re… You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

 

“I should make that my motto – ‘Not as bad as you first think’” He winked in response, and Brienne couldn’t help but laugh quietly. She’d cried upon his shoulder until her eyes were sore, and now she just felt empty. She wanted to fill that hole with happiness, not more tears, and so she was grateful for Jaime’s cheery nature. But she couldn’t help but wonder what she would do now, she felt like she no longer had a purpose.

 

“What now, though?” She asked him, “I can hardly return the Stark children to a corpse, but I can’t just forget my oath. Be honest with me, are they safe at King’s Landing?” Her eyes probed his, searching for truth. He paused before he answered.

 

“No.” He shook his head sadly. “Nobody is truly safe at King’s Landing, least of all the daughter of a dead traitor. I haven’t heard any news to the contrary, so I assume that Sansa’s still betrothed to Joffrey, which will protect her from being killed, but little else I’m afraid. My sister’s son is a vile boy who takes pleasure in other people’s pain.” Brienne noticed how he didn’t say ‘my son’, as if trying to distance himself from the boy, and she didn’t press the matter.

 

“I have to help them,” she muttered. “You swore the oath as well, you promised to trade them back to Catelyn, you have to help me protect them.” Jaime raised his stump uselessly, letting it hang between them.

 

“I’m afraid I’m not much good at protecting anybody.”

 

“That’s not true. You protected me.” She felt embarrassed the moment the words left her mouth, but it was too late to unsay them, so she waited anxiously for his reply.

 

“Don’t tell anybody that, wench, I have a bad reputation to maintain.” He mockingly put on a scary face, baring his teeth and angling his eyebrows before continuing. “Cersei won’t let you take them away, not now that the Young Wolf is no longer a threat, so-”

 

“But you promised!” Brienne cut him off, protesting loudly. He raised his hand to silence her.

 

“You didn’t let me finish! Cersei won’t _let_ us take them, so we’ll have to be sneaky about it. I’ll get you a place in the City Watch, I daresay gold will look rather good on you, and in the meantime I’ll work out what the situation is with Sansa and Arya, how well guarded they are and things like that. I’ll speak to you when I can, but it won’t be able to be very often, or it’ll raise suspicion. You’ll need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, and… Keep your blade sharp.” Brienne needed a moment to absorb his words, and realised the weight of them.

 

“You wouldn’t be coming with us?” She asked stupidly. Jaime sadly shook his head.

 

“I’m Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, my place is by Joffrey’s side, no matter how despicable he is. You wouldn’t want me abandoning my honour. Besides, I thought you found me insufferable?”

 

“You _are_ insufferable.” She retorted, and Jaime grinned. “But I’ve grown used to you, Jaime.”

 

“I’ve grown used to you too, Brienne, but we both have our places, and they’re not together. Now, come on, we should leave whilst it’s still early, if we make good time, it shouldn’t take us more than two days to reach King’s Landing.” He gathered their bag of meagre food supplies, and left out the door, and Brienne had no choice but to follow.

 

**Jaime**

He had tried hard not to show his sadness at the fact that they didn’t have much time left together, but as he rode ahead of her where she couldn’t see his face, he let himself think about what was to come. Brienne had irked him initially, her unfailing honour had been tiresome to him, but now he respected it. She was loyal, honourable and moral… All the things that Cersei wasn’t. Jaime was really nervous about seeing Cersei again, it had been almost a year, and he didn’t know how she was going to react to his stump. She’d always loved him because he looked like her, she had seen him as a reflection of herself, and now that he no longer had his hand, he wasn’t sure whether she’d still want him. _But what if you don’t want her?_ An even more nagging voice at the back of his head asked. He could close his eyes and see her as clearly as if she were standing right in front of him, her long golden hair flowing beautifully down her shoulders, her emerald eyes gleaming; she looked perfect. Except Jaime wasn’t sure that he wanted perfect anymore, he was broken, he wanted somebody who would accept that. He thought of Brienne with her freckles, crooked teeth and homely features, and smiled inwardly. She always made him feel so comfortable and relaxed, despite his flaws. Cersei was like a glass of fine wine – she made him feel confident and she was undeniably desirable, but afterwards he would be insatiable, always striving for another taste, never content, and too much would make him feel dizzy and ill. Brienne, on the other hand, was like a warm broth – not particularly fancy, but robust, familiar, she was a constant and there were no unwanted side-effects, she made him feel like himself.

 

“Wench!” He called out, disrupting his own thoughts as he slowed his destrier to a stop. “I’m hungry!” He dismounted and reached into the saddle bag to get some food, and she gave a resigned sigh and dismounted next to him.

 

“Make it quick, we have a long ride ahead of us.”

 

“And it will just seem soooo much longer if I don’t eat something. How are you not starving?”

 

“Because I don’t let my stomach control me.”

 

“No, but you let my stomach control you.” He winked at her as he popped a chunk of bread in his mouth, and then offered her a piece, which she took reluctantly. “So,” he said, through a mouthful of food, “When we reach King’s Landing, do you want me to try and get you a room in the Red Keep, or do you want to stay in quarters with the rest of the City Watch. I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable sleeping in a room full of men?”

 

“I, I hadn’t given it much thought. I suppose I should just live with the other gold cloaks, I don’t want them thinking I have preferential treatment. It might make things suspicious when I need to rescue the girls.”

 

“Don’t let them take advantage of you, you’re strong, let them see that. And if any of them give you trouble, warn them that you know me personally, the Lannister name still commands respect in King’s Landing, if nowhere else.” He paused to drink, and noticed her wince as she raised her hand to her mouth to eat. “How’s your burn healing up, does your hand still hurt?”

 

“I’m fine.” She answered, too quickly. Jaime knew she was lying.

 

“Let me see,” he commanded, swallowing his water, and licking his lips to get the last of the moisture off. She pulled her hand away, but he held on, carefully undoing the cloth around it. She drew a sharp breath as he peeled the last layer off. Underneath the skin was red and sore, but it didn’t seem to be infected.  “I’m going to give it another clean, just to be safe. Hold still,” he murmured soothingly, pouring some water onto the wound. Her hand shivered as the water touched it, but he steadied it with his stump. Then he awkwardly tied the cloth back on, and let go of her.

 

“Let’s get back on the horses, Jaime, it looks like it’s going to rain soon.” Jaime looked up; apart from a single ominous grey cloud, it was a clear blue sky.

 

“You’re too negative, Brienne, it’s a lovely day! It’s not going to rain.”

 

**Brienne**

The rain was coming down in sheets. It was cold, and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement as she buried her head into her horse’s mane to try and keep the drops off her face. It was so rare that she got to say “I told you so,” to Jaime, but this time she’d predicted correctly. When they felt the first drops landing, he’d turned around with raised eyebrows and mouthed “Guess you were right, wench,” before the skies had opened up and poured down on them. It hadn’t let up since, and the sky was beginning to grow dark. With the rain as thick as it was, they could barely see in front of them, and when the light went, it would be too dangerous to keep going.

 

“Jaime!” She shouted, “We need to make camp!”

 

“I know!” He shouted back, “I’m looking for somewhere suitable!” Eventually he pulled over next to a large clump of trees where the branches overhead were keeping off most of the rain, so that only a few drops trickled through. They tied their horses to one of the trunks, then took off the saddle bags and carried them over to a thick yew tree. She propped herself against the trunk and sat down, but he stayed standing and slumped his shoulders.

 

“The ground looks muddy.” He complained, and she laughed back at him.

 

“It _is_ muddy. Stop being such a baby and sit down, unless you want to get leg cramp.” Grudgingly he agreed.

 

“Can we at least make a fire?” He pleaded.

 

“I suppose, as long as you can find some dry kindling.” He foraged around, and after a while came back with an armful of wood, which he dumped unceremoniously at her feet. He used his sword to scrape the outer layer of damp bark off, and then looked imploringly at her. Since losing his left hand, he hadn’t been able to light a fire, so it was up to her to make the spark. Soon, a small fire was burning, and she and Jaime were leaning close to try and soak up its warmth.

 

“My tunic’s sticking to me, do you mind if I take it off? I’m wearing a vest underneath.” She nodded and averted her gaze, but when she looked back, she saw Jaime fumbling at the leather ties around his neck, unable to undo them. He saw her watching and shrugged apologetically. “The rain’s made it difficult, I can’t do it. Would you-” he trailed off, leaving the request unasked. Wordlessly she shifted over to Jaime’s side to undo the ties for him, and then pulled on the sleeves to move the tunic over his head. He shivered as the wind hit his bare torso.

 

“You said you were wearing a vest.” She said, frowning. He smirked.

 

“I knew you’d never help me if I said I wasn’t. Why, do you find this distracting?”

 

“Shut up.” She turned away from him in mock disgust, and he chuckled, balancing his tunic on a stick he’d propped up next to the fire to help it dry quicker. She reached into her saddlebag to pull out her scratchy blanket, but as she reached inside, she was horrified to feel water. “Seven hells!” She spat, dragging out the sodden blanket. “Everything’s soaked through. I must not have closed it properly.” Jaime had already draped his around his shoulders to keep him warm, and she looked enviously at it.

 

“Mine’s big enough for two people.” He suggested, widening his arms as if to prove his point; Brienne couldn’t help but notice the way the firelight flickered off his chest. He had lost weight since the first time she’d seen him, his skin was stretched across his bones, giving him a gaunt look, and yet it was still plain to see that he had a strong build underneath. She imagined what it would feel like to sleep next to him again, and wondered if he’d hold her like he did the night before. _I should refuse. I should take my chances with the cold, it’s better than risking heartbreak._ She opened her mouth to say no, but instead found herself saying,

 

“Yes. Thank you.” He smiled and gestured for her to move over to him. Cautiously she dragged herself over, but stopped a few inches away. He shook his head teasingly.

 

“Come on, you don’t want to catch a cold,” he smirked suggestively. And without waiting for her reaction, he moved his right arm around her, settling his hand on her shoulder and pulling her down until her head was resting below his. “You’re all wet.” He stated.

 

“Sorry.” Brienne whispered, feeling very self-conscious. He brushed a strand of hair away, and carefully planted his lips on her forehead. She closed her eyes, and allowed the sensation to flow through her, before he raised his head back up.

 

“We should get some sleep, hopefully this rain will let up and we’ll arrive at King’s Landing tomorrow.” He lay down on the ground, and, nervously, Brienne joined him. His hand snaked around her waist, urging her closer, and she was about to push him away, before he removed it to pull close the corner of the blanket, and she realised he was just trying to keep them warm overnight. She allowed herself to relax, and focused on his gentle breathing as she tried to steady the rapid beating of her heart. Soon, his quiet snores filled the air, and she let the waves of sleep take over her.

 

**Jaime**

A harsh light filtered through the leaves in the canopy above, waking him up with a start as it hit his eyelids. He felt a heavy weight pressed against his torso, and looked across to see Brienne slumped over him, her arms loosely wrapped about his chest. For a moment he considered waking her, and watching her embarrassment as she realised the position she’d assumed in her sleep, but he thought better of it. Her hands were warm against his skin, and the sleeves of her tunic were cold and wet, yet oddly comforting. He gently eased himself out from her grasp and sat up, reaching into his saddlebag for some dried meat. Brienne grunted as he moved out from under her, but remained asleep, so he nudged her softly with his foot to wake her. She raised her hand to wipe her stunning sapphire blue eyes, before sitting up hastily.

 

“Good morning!” He called cheerily, to avoid any potential awkwardness. “What do you want to break your fast, bread or meat?”

 

“I’ll just have some water.” She said huskily. He passed her the waterskin.

 

“The skies have cleared, we should have easy passage today. We’ll likely arrive around evening time. I know that you’re a proud woman, but don’t do anything hasty when we get there. They may make a few japes at your expense, but just ignore them. I’ll let them know that you’re to be treated well, and I’ll make sure that you’re fed and quartered. And it’s best that you don’t mention the Stark girls, we don’t want them finding out about your purpose, leave that to me, alright.” He finished the piece of meat he was working on, and jogged over to his horse.

 

\---

 

It was near nightfall when they finally reached King’s Landing, and tied their horses to a post at the edge of the city, where they would no doubt be taken by some lucky smallfolk. Ahead, the Red Keep loomed over them, and Jaime felt a flood of emotions upon seeing it, chief of which was anxiety. This was his life, and the old Jaime had been well suited to it, but after losing his hand, and experiencing the journey with Brienne, he wasn’t sure how well he’d slot back into it. The coming weeks were going to be interesting to say the least. He decided that they should enter through the mud gate, as they were likely to draw the least attention there.

 

In front of it stood Ser Meryn Trant, his brother in the Kingsguard. Trant raised his eyebrows when Jaime and Brienne approached, his eyes full of suspicion.

 

“Let us through,” Jaime ordered, hand on his sword hilt, but Trant just laughed.

 

“Oh, am I supposed to stand aside for a cripple and some beast of a wench?”

 

“Is that anyway to speak to your Lord Commander?” Jaime asked menacingly. The guard’s eyes widened in recognition, and he coughed sheepishly.

 

“I beg your pardons, ser. Welcome back, Lord Jaime.” Ser Meryn pushed open the gates, and Jaime walked into his new ‘old life’.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long chapter, I wanted to fit it all in so that I could start on the King’s Landing chapters next week! Thanks so much for all your kind reviews, they really mean so much to me, so please keep them coming if you enjoy my story. Also, I know that by this point Joffrey and Sansa are no longer betrothed, but Jaime would have no way of knowing that, which I why I left it in there. Just a reminder, there aren’t going to be any spoilers in this fanfic, so all the major events to come are just my imagination :)


	7. Letting Go

**Jaime**

“Cersei,” Jaime called out, his breath catching in his throat as he opened the door to Cersei’s solar. The guard had let him through straight away; his sister had a habit of picking guards who didn’t question too much. She was seated on her four-poster featherbed, her golden hair swaying as she turned to look him in the eye. He stared deep into her emerald eyes, and realised just how much he’d missed her all those months.

 

“Jaime? Can it really be you?”

 

“Yes. I’ve come home.” He couldn’t stand it any more, he had to be nearer to her. He rushed forwards and embraced her, clasping her tight against him and breathing in her scent. He went to kiss her, but before their lips touched, his stump brushed her arm, and she pulled away, looking down in disgust.

 

“What happened?” She gasped, horrified. “Was it the Starks, did they do this to you?”

 

“No, no, it was the Bloody Mummers. I don’t want to talk about it, Cersei, I just want to be with you.” He moved his face towards hers, but she stepped back again, still fixated on his stump.

 

“It’s hideous. It looks so incredibly ugly.” She stated, and Jaime felt all his desire drain away, replaced with self-consciousness and pain. He had feared that she would react this way, but he’d convinced himself that he’d been worrying over nothing, that she would still love him. To have her dismiss him so easily after all their time apart – it made him feel even more broken than he already was.

 

“I agree, believe me, I am not overly fond of it myself. But it’s who I am now. I am still me, in fact, I am more myself than I’ve ever been. This is who I am when you take away my pride, and my perfect looks; I am Jaime Lannister.”

 

She cast her eyes over all of him, taking in his gaunt face, his dirty clothes, his scraggly beard. Then she stepped forwards and pressed her lips against his ear.

“You’re a cripple,” she spat, “You’re not my beautiful Jaime.” She pushed him hard on the chest before screaming, “GET OUT!”

 

“I’ve missed you too, sweet sister.” He whispered as he slowly walked out, feeling more wounded than he had felt since his hand had been cut off.

 

**Brienne**

Jaime had convinced the guards to give her a room in the Red Keep until he had sorted out her inauguration into the City Watch. She had been expecting the smallest room available, so when she had walked into her new quarters she had been temporarily shocked. It was certainly not small. There was a lavish featherbed at the back of the room, with golden covers, and a pillow that felt so soft she wanted to bury her head in it and just lie there forever. There were several large windows, which gave her a fantastic view of the castle gardens, and there was also a sink in the corner. She had just settled down on the bed when she heard a gentle knock at the door. Brienne crossed the room to open it, curious as to whom it might be, but she had not expected to see the man who it was. _Jaime_. His emerald eyes were glazed and clearly holding back tears, and his face seemed to have aged 20 years from when she’d last seen him a mere 20 minutes ago. His shoulders slumped, and when he spoke, there was none of his usual cockiness.

 

“May I come in?” He asked hoarsely, his throat sounded raw. Brienne nodded wordlessly and stepped aside to let him through, closing the door when he was inside.

 

“What’s happened?” She asked him, although she was pretty sure that she already knew the answer.

 

“Cersei.” He whispered, that one word seeming to evoke more emotion in him than she’d ever seen before. Brienne had heard discomfiting tales about Jaime’s twin, but never had she hated the woman as much as she did now. Nobody could consider Jaime’s relationship with his sister as being _healthy_ , but he had truly loved her, and to see him hurting so much because of her was hard. Jaime was still a fighter, and a good man. Even if Cersei was as superficial as Brienne suspected, she had no cause for complaint, Jaime was more handsome than any man she’d ever met, and that was in his current malnourished state. Brienne could scarce imagine how attractive he must’ve been at his full strength. Why should Cersei care that he was a cripple, as if that made him a lesser man?

 

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said genuinely, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder before changing her mind and drawing back her hand. Jaime shook his head.

 

“Don’t be.” And then, to Brienne’s dismay, he started crying. She’d never seen him cry before, not like this; she’d heard his screams when he lost his hand, but that was different. This crying was pitiful, and unbearable to watch. She thought of the way that she’d cried against Jaime’s shoulder the other night, and decided that she owed him the same, no matter how uncomfortable it made her feel. She pulled him into an awkward hug, and felt Jaime smile against her cheek, which was already blushing furiously. After a few seconds she drew back, and he lifted his head up to gaze into her eyes, wiping the tears from his cheeks, and looking embarrassed.

 

“You can stay here as long as you need to.” Brienne told him, sincerely. A part of her wanted him to stay the night again, she’d grown so used to his company, and wasn’t sure that she was ready to be away from him. But even as she stood there, hopeful, he shook his head.

 

“Cersei would never allow it. I’m still hers, even if she doesn’t want me. She’s possessive like that, she’d hurt you if she found out. I can’t have that on my conscience.” He still sounded pained. “Thanks, though, it’s kind of you to offer. Good night, Brienne.” He turned to leave, and Brienne was of a mind to let him go, but then despite herself, she called out after him.

 

“Why do you let her treat you like that?” She couldn’t help the accusatory tone rising in her voice; it angered her the way that Jaime allowed his sister to degrade him. He stopped but didn’t look around, and finally he spoke, his words heavy with contempt.

 

“Because I loved her.” And he closed the door. Brienne noted, with a guilty sense of elation, that he used the past tense.

 

**Jaime**

“I knew it!” Cersei shrieked, glaring at him as he walked back down the corridor away from Brienne’s room. She grabbed his left arm, and pulled painfully, dragging him into an empty room and slamming the door. “You cheated on me!” She hissed at him, eyes brimming with cold fury. “The guards said you were accompanied by a knight, I only found out after you left me that it was a woman. And now I see that she’s more than just a woman to you, you’ve _been_ with her!”

 

Ordinarily Jaime would have immediately told Cersei the truth, that he’d remained faithful to her all that time, but after the way she’d treated him earlier, he realised that he didn’t care what she thought. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed. Cersei was still as beautiful as ever, she was still his twin, they belonged together. Except he didn’t want to be with her any more. It had taken her reaction for him to see that. He didn’t want to be manipulated and used, he didn’t want Cersei with all her perfections and imperfections, he didn’t want this beautiful lie. Because that was all that Cersei was… A lie. _She’s been your whole life,_ he thought, struggling to deal with the rush of emotions he felt whilst staring into her green eyes full of hate.

 

“And why would you care, sweet sister, I thought I was just ‘a cripple’?” He asked her, his voice laden with sarcasm on the word ‘sweet’, because Cersei was anything but sweet. She gasped angrily, clearly taken aback by his words.

 

“So it’s true? You said you’d always remain faithful to me! You lied to me!” She was screaming at him now, and he wondered how he could ever have loved someone this mad.

 

“As you have lied a thousand times to me,” he sighed, “But I haven’t been with Brienne, not in that way. I kept my promise to you, and I remained faithful, and yet now I don’t know why I bothered. Whilst I was at Harrenhal, the maester there sent a whore to my bed, but I turned her away, I never even considered it. You were what kept me going; I thought of you every day and night, I just wanted to get back to you. When they cut off my hand it was the most excruciating pain imaginable, and do you want to know what I thought? I thought ‘I hope Cersei will still love me’. I gritted my teeth through the pain as the maester sewed my stump, and I thought of you. I was so anxious at how you’d react, I told myself that you wouldn’t mind, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then I finally arrived here, I finally saw you. After almost a year of being away from you, we were finally reunited, and what did you do? _You pushed me away!_ So don’t call _me_ the unfaithful one, Cersei, you did this. You, not me. Well, do you know what? I don’t want you any more. You are just my sister, nothing more. _We_ are over.” Jaime exhaled loudly when he finished, as Cersei just stood in stunned silence. He felt as tired as if he’d been training at swords for hours, but he was free for the first time in his life, and it was empowering.

 

Cersei stepped forwards, and put her hands around his waist, pulling him towards her. “I’m sorry, Jaime, I’m sorry. Don’t say that, we’re not over,” she whispered into his ear, her warm breath tingling on his skin, “We’re twins. We came into this world together, we _belong_ together!” She sounded so desperate, and Jaime laughed cruelly at her pathetic attempt to regain control. He knew she didn’t really care about him, she just needed to be the one with the power, she needed to own him. But Brienne was right, he wasn’t a possession. He pushed his sister away, and looked her dead in the face.

 

“Let it go. I don’t love you any more.” And he left the room before Cersei could say a word to him. Because he _didn’t_ love her any more, he loved someone else. Someone who didn’t treat him like a possession, but as an equal. Someone who didn’t use him, but who worked alongside him. Someone who wasn’t beautiful, but was strong. Someone whose name was Brienne.


	8. Jaime Lannister Would Care

**Brienne**

She’d been half expecting, _hoping_ , that Jaime would come back that night, but after an hour had passed it became clear that he wasn’t coming, so she took off her clothes and settled down to bed, staring at the gilded ceiling above her, and pondering over the events of that evening, and the events that were sure to come. The bed was even softer and more spacious than the one in her home on Tarth, but she found that she had found more comfort on the hard ground last night, when she’d had Jaime’s smooth shoulder to rest her face against. _I sound like such a girl_. This wouldn’t do. She was a knight, and Jaime was a member of the Kingsguard, there was no future to such a relationship, she had to put all these thoughts out of her head. _But I love him._ She sighed and buried her head further into the pillow, closing her eyes and begging for relief. It came shortly after, and she drifted into a sad yet undisturbed sleep.

 

She was awoken by a loud knock at her door. _Jaime,_ she thought, her heart leaping as she hastily slipped on a tunic and breeches, before opening the door. It wasn’t Jaime. The man stood before her was tall and muscular, wearing a cloak of gold, and he might have been intimidating to a smaller person, but Brienne was bigger than most men, so she stood unyieldingly before him.

 

“Lady Brienne?” The man asked, courtesy in his voice, but there was also a warmth to his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. He reached out his hand and Brienne took it firmly, determined that he didn’t see her as some weak woman. “My name is Addam Marbrand, I’m commander of the City Watch. Ser Jaime Lannister informed me that you wished to join our ranks, is this true?

 

“Yes.” _No. Jaime wanted me to join, and I agreed so as to keep up a pretence whilst we figure out how to rescue the Stark girls._

 

“I don’t usually recruit women, but Ser Jaime is an old friend of mine, and I will admit that you certainly look strong enough. Might I request that you walk with me? I should like to see your skill at fighting before I present you with a gold cloak.”

 

Brienne nodded, and followed him out of the room, holding her head high to hide her slight nervousness. She was a woman of honour, and she knew that the City Watch had betrayed Ned Stark, allowed themselves to be bought, and the thought of serving alongside them made her feel a little queasy. After a few minutes of walking in silence, they reached the training yard, and found it empty aside from a handful of squires, who stopped practicing to stare at her large form. She ignored them; she was used to such looks by now.

 

“Shall I be fighting you, or somebody else?” Brienne asked him, looking around for another potential sparring partner.

 

“You’ll be fighting Dalton Barrel, he’s a well seasoned man of the City Watch, though not yet a knight. He didn’t seem too keen on the idea, but I want to see him at work, there have been too many reports of him not doing his duty, so I thought I would sort out two problems at once. He should be arriving soon, meanwhile, why don’t you find yourself a sword? We won’t be using armour, so please take one of the blunted swords.”

A loud shout from behind made both of them turn their heads.

 

“Marbrand! You expect me to have a fight with some beast of a woman? This is an insult! You told me I’d be sparring with a new recruit, not some _woman_!” His anger flared, and he gave Brienne a look of pure hatred. She steeled herself. She was going to defeat that man even if it killed her.

 

“You’ll do as your told if you wish to keep your position, but I’m happy to send you to The Wall if you wish to refuse an order?” Marbrand retaliated, shoving a sword into his hands. “Now enough of this. Dalton, Brienne, face each other and fight!”

 

**Jaime**

“You could’ve asked to see me, father, it has been a year. Or did you have other things far more important than a reunion with your son?” Jaime strode into his father’s solar at midday, fed up of waiting to be asked there himself.

 

“Don’t be petty, Jaime, it doesn’t suit you. Now, let me see your arm.”

 

Jaime raised his stump for Tywin to scrutinise. If the man had any reaction to it, he didn’t show it. After a few seconds, Tywin spoke again.

 

“Can you still fight?”

 

“Yes, I can. I’m also fine, thanks for asking.” Jaime replied, exasperated at his father’s apparent lack of concern. Tywin raised an eyebrow but chose to ignore the slight.

 

“Who was it that did this? We’re Lannisters, we can’t afford to overlook something like this. Was it the Starks?”

 

“No, it was the Brave Companions. Speaking of the Starks, how are Sansa and Arya? I trust you’re looking after them well?” Jaime tried to sound uninterested.

 

“As the Starks clearly looked after you? But we’ve treated Sansa well enough, she’s very lucky, we made a match with a very prominent figure. As to Arya Stark, she hasn’t been seen since Ned Stark was executed, we believe she escaped King’s Landing, but with all the outlaws on the road, she’s probably dead by now.”

 

“Escaped? Dead?” Jaime tried to keep his voice level, “You told Lady Catelyn that you had both of them safe to trade for me!”

 

“Don’t tell me that the Stark’s ideals of honour and morality have rubbed off on you? We said what we needed to. We had to get you back, we can’t have people thinking that they can go around capturing the heir to Casterly Rock. Lannisters _always_ pay their debts.”

 

“I’m not the heir, Tyrion is,” Jaime said wearily, tired of having this same conversation with his father every time, “I’m a member of the Kingsguard, and so I cannot inherit. And who have you made a match with for Sansa? Did she give her consent?”

 

“She gave her consent. Out of fear, no doubt, but what does it matter, she said the words, and so it’s official. She’s already married… To your brother.”

 

“Tyrion? But she’s… What, 13? He’s almost three times her age, do you really expect me to believe that either of them wanted it?”

 

“Neither of them wanted it, but it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that with the Young Wolf and his brothers dead, Sansa Stark is the key to the North as heir of Winterfell. They will rally behind her, and we needed a Lannister marriage to rein them in.” Tywin sounded bored, as if he was explaining this to a child. Jaime was struck by how cold his father truly was; he loved him of course, but this coldness was hard to stomach. He held his breath, not sure how to broach the next subject.

 

“Robb Stark died at the red wedding, when Walder Frey broke all the laws of hospitality and ignored guest right. Was it you, father, did you have a hand in that?”

 

“Yes I did. It was all pre-arranged, and it got the job done. Don’t you _dare_ deign to lecture me on honour and laws of hospitality. It was better that all the Stark men died there, where none of our soldiers were going to be harmed. The North needed to be shown that rebellion would not be tolerated. Let them remember what happens when they march on the South. We killed all the loyal knights devoted to the Starks. All but one, it would seem, that woman you came with… Does she need to be disposed of?”

 

“Brienne is not to be harmed!” Jaime declared, a little too forcefully. He tried to calm himself before continuing. “Brienne is a good woman, and a good knight. She saved my life more times than I can count, and as you said, a Lannister always pays his debts. I’ve organised for her to join the City Watch. Please father, she was never even truly fighting for Robb Stark, she was loyal to Lady Catelyn, and I trust her.”

 

Tywin stared at Jaime for a long time, then nodded, and dismissed him with a flick of the hand, and Jaime walked straight out, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

As he was walking back to his own solar, he passed Addam Marbrand in the corridor, and the man gave him a warm smile.

 

“Lord Commander! Good news! That woman you gave me, Brienne, she’s in. I put her against Dalton Barrel, a horrible man, but a brilliant fighter, and yet she managed to beat him, gave him a real whack at the end! I’ve given her a gold cloak, and she has the rest of the day off, but from tomorrow she’ll be working for the City watch.”

 

“And where is she now?” Jaime asked, slightly worried. Addam frowned at Jaime’s concerned expression.

 

“The training yard I believe, ser.”

 

Jaime smiled gratefully at Marbrand, and then set off toward the training yard as quickly as he could without running.

**Brienne**

Brienne swung her sword at the training dummy, straw flying out in every direction. She knew she’d be really tired later, but for now she was still swarming with adrenaline after her fight with Dalton. It had been a narrow victory, but an important one. She’d fought well enough that she expected she would have been inaugurated into the City Watch anyway, but she wanted to prove a point so that men such as Dalton didn’t think her weak. She angrily recalled how he had referred to her as ‘some beast of a woman’, and swung her sword again, harder. She’d suffered insults all her life, and had thought herself immune to them, but since Jaime had started being so nice to her, she hadn’t heard them in a long time. To be sure, Jaime would tease her every now and then, and call her ‘wench’, but he would never make it personal, he’d never call her ‘beast’. _He respects me_ , she thought with a childish sense of pride… so few men did. A noise behind her distracted her from her thoughts.

 

“Beast woman.” She recognised the voice as Dalton’s.

 

“My name is Brienne.” She said, turning to look at him, and noticing that there were two other men with him.

 

“I don’t bloody care what your name is, you humiliated me. Seems to me that you need to be put in your place. You need to realise that you’re a woman, and men are always going to be better than you.”

 

“You’re better than me are you? Then how was it that I beat you earlier?” She asked in as dignified a voice as she could manage. Dalton’s response was to slap her hard across the face, causing her to bite her tongue. She spat, and saw that her saliva was flecked with blood.

 

“Seems to me that we could kill you right now. Nobody would care, we could say that you tripped and fell on a dagger.”

 

“Jaime Lannister would care.” Brienne hated bringing Jaime into this, but she said the words despite that, she needed to stay safe so that she could rescue the Stark girls. She wasn’t going to die having not fulfilled her oath. Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. The two men at his side grabbed her arms, and tried to pull her down; she punched one in the face, and he backed off, but before she could escape, Dalton had dragged her painfully to the ground, and was holding a dagger at her throat. Her arms were pinned down by the other two men, and if she tried to move she’d most likely end up impaling herself, so she was forced to lie still, glaring into the ferocious eyes of Dalton Barrel. He shook his head mockingly at her, and then twisted the dagger painfully, so that it dug into her neck. She could feel beads of blood forming, but she kept still, trying to ignore the pain and fear.

 

“Jaime Lannister isn’t here right now,” Dalton hissed.

 

“Actually he is,” A blonde haired knight in Kingsguard uniform sauntered into the training yard. _Jaime._ “And he wants you to get away from her right this second.” The two men holding her arms stepped back immediately, and after a few seconds Dalton stepped back too, relieving the pressure of the dagger from her throat.

“We were just teaching her a lesson Lord Commander, we weren’t actually going to kill her, I swear it.”

 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, she’s wearing a gold cloak, she’s your comrade! I will not have her harmed.” He turned to Brienne, “Lady Brienne, if Dalton or any other man assaults you just let me know, and I’ll have him gelded and sent to The Wall.” He turned back to Dalton. “And if anything should happen to Brienne that should render her dead or otherwise unable to speak, I shall hold you personally responsible, and will devise the most painful death I can think up for you. Now go, and leave me alone with her.”

 

The look that Dalton gave Jaime was poisonous, but he left all the same, shoving the dagger into a compartment in his breeches, and slowing for the other two gold cloaks to follow him out. Jaime waited until they had left before reaching an arm out to Brienne and clasping her shoulder comfortingly. She breathed out, and allowed his touch to calm her.

 

“Thank you, Jaime. It would seem that Dalton Barrel isn’t too fond of losing to a woman.”

 

“Few men are, but they’d be fools to underestimate you. Hopefully Dalton will spread the word that nobody’s to hurt you.” Jaime looked distracted, as if he had something he wanted to tell her, but wasn’t sure how to go about it.

 

“What is it?” She asked, a little hesitantly. He sighed deeply, avoiding her eyes.

 

“Will you come back with me to my chambers? There’s something I need to tell you, and you’re not going to like it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your kudos and kind comments, every single one means so much to me! I prefer not to use OCs too much in fanfics, but I felt the need for Dalton Barrel, as not many City Watch characters are introduced in the show/ books, and Addam Marbrand is too decent a guy to hurt Brienne. The next chapter should be a good one, so I think you’re all going to enjoy that :)


	9. The Truth

**Brienne**

Jaime was the very image of courtesy as they made their way back to his chambers, he even went as far as to offer her his arm, but she refused as she didn’t want people to see them like that, and besides, this was very out of character behaviour for him. Finally they reached his door, and he opened it, holding it for her to go in first. He looked over his shoulder, before crossing the threshold and closing the door after him.

 

“Please sit down, I need to get a look at your wound. Does it hurt?”

 

“Of course it hurts, I just had a dagger pressed into it, but I can sort it out myself. What’s going on, Jaime?” The blood was starting to drip quite a bit now, and although she couldn’t see it, she was pretty sure that the dagger had gone a bit deeper than she first thought.

 

“How are you meant to sort it out yourself when you can barely see it? It’s fine, I’ve got it covered.”

 

“Well can you at least tell me what it is that’s bothering you, first?”

 

“I’m worried that you won’t let me near you once I’ve told you.” He reached out his hand to gently lower her onto the edge of his bed, and then went and fetched a bowl of water and a flannel. He dipped the flannel in the water, and started dabbing at her neck. Brienne winced as the water went inside the cut, but she sat still and didn’t say anything. He continued like that for a while, wringing out the flannel then dabbing again at the cut.

 

“Are you nearly done?” She asked, frustrated. She was grateful for his help, but she needed to know what it was that he had been going to tell her. He sighed deeply and put aside the bowl of water, drying his hands on a towel.

 

“It’s stopped bleeding, I don’t think you’re going to have to see a maester, but keep an eye on it.” He bit his lip anxiously, then settled beside her on the bed, before seemingly changing his mind and standing up again to face her. “I’ve spoken to my father,” he managed to say.

 

“Oh?” Brienne asked, not sure where this conversation was headed, and whether or not she should stand up.

 

“It was about the Stark girls. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” He avoided her eyes as he spoke. “Sansa… Sansa has been married off. To Tyrion. And Arya, she, uh, she escaped. Right around the time that Ned Stark was executed. They haven’t seen her since, they think she might be dead.” Jaime looked into her eyes again, pleading with her to stay calm, but she couldn’t help the angry shudders coursing through her.

 

“You promised!” Brienne shouted at him, rising, and striking him across the face with her burned hand. She felt instantly bad about it, but couldn’t apologise because she was too mad with the situation. Jaime just stood there, as if waiting for her to hit him again. “You promised. I thought I could trust you.” She whispered, falling back on to the bed.

 

**Jaime**

His face stung from where she’d slapped him, but it was her words that caused him real pain. He of course understood her anguish, shared it even, and would happily let her hit him a hundred times if it would make her feel better, but for her to doubt his trustworthiness? That hurt.

 

“You can trust me, Brienne. I know you think I’m just an oathbreaker, but I _do_ try to keep my promises, I came to find you as soon as I found out, this was my father’s work, not mine. I had no hand in this!.” He noticed a small smile flicker across her lips for a second, and wondered what he’d said that was so funny, before realising and smiling sheepishly back. “No part in this. I had no part in this.” He sat down beside her on the bed, and very hesitantly reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’ll help you get Sansa out, I promise. We’ll think of something.”

 

“Sorry for slapping you.” She muttered.

 

“That’s okay.” He looked over at her, and noticed that she’d calmed down. “I mean, it might have hurt if I’d been hit by a man, but seeing as it’s just you…” he trailed off, winking at her as she punched him lightly in the stomach.

 

“But how are we meant to rescue Sansa if she’s already married? Surely she’d be living with Tyrion, and he’s bound to have guards?”

 

“Believe me, Tyrion is going to be the least of our problems, it’s getting her out of the castle that will be tricky. But don’t worry, I’ll think of something.” In all honesty, Jaime had no idea what he was going to do, but Brienne didn’t need to know that. She did seem relieved by his words, and after the trouble she’d just had, she deserved a little relief. He turned his attention to the hand she’d just hit him with, and saw that the cloth was starting to fray. He gestured to it, in a ‘may I,’ kind of way, and she nodded. He carefully peeled it off, and was pleased to see that the skin had turned a shiny pink colour, and looked to be healing well. He ran his fingers over it, scrutinising her face for any sign of pain, but if it hurt her at all then she didn’t show it. The skin felt soft, and was in stark contrast to her calloused fingertips, so he continued running his fingers in lazy circles over the surface.

 

“Jaime?” She asked questioningly, and he hastily withdrew his hand.

 

“It looks fine. It’s healing fine. It should be fine. Everything’s- ”

 

“Fine?” She interjected playfully, and he grinned back at her.

 

“Fine.” He confirmed.

 

**Cersei**

Cersei was still fuming from Jaime’s words last night, but she tried not to pay them too much heed. He’d been angry, and Jaime had never been one to think over consequences too much, he would come back to her as he always did. Of course, that stump of his was ghastly, and it repulsed her to look at it, but when she decided she was done with him, it would be on her terms, not his. So for now she had to seek him out, convince him to come back to her. She smiled, looking in the mirror; that shouldn’t be too hard. She put on a long red dress that he’d bought her years ago, and fastened a golden lion head broach to the shoulder. _There, now he has to notice me._ The lion head would remind him that she was a Lannister, as he was. They belonged together. It was the Tarth woman that she was most concerned about. He couldn’t possibly love her, she’d seen a glimpse of her earlier, and the Maid of Tarth was undoubtedly the ugliest woman that Cersei had ever set eyes on. No, love was out of the question, so Cersei figured that Jaime must be playing some other game. _He pretends to like her just to spite me._ Well, two could play at that game. Maybe if she flirted with one of the guards outside Jaime’s chambers… Yes, that was sure to make him jealous. She slipped on a pair of golden shoes, and elegantly walked out of the door, heading for Jaime’s room.

 

As she rounded the corridor to his chambers, she heard footsteps coming towards her. It was _her._ What was _she_ doing here? Cersei was determined to use this to her advantage, and so she smiled sweetly at the giantess, and stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

 

“Hi!” Cersei exclaimed in a false show of enthusiasm. “You must be the woman who I hear saved my brother. I am _ever_ so grateful, I’ve always been very close with Jaime, it would have broken my heart to lose him.”

 

“You’re welcome.” The woman muttered, clearly unfamiliar with courtly formalities.

 

“I know you’ve been playing at knight for a long while, but you mustn’t forget your pleasantries. You’re a noble woman, you shouldn’t mutter. What’s your name?”

 

“Brienne of Tarth.” Now the woman sounded oddly proud, as if that pathetic little rock was some kind of a prize. _How could Jaime possibly want to spend time in her company? He’s definitely trying to spite me._

 

“May I ask what you’re doing here, Brienne? You’ve escorted my brother to King’s Landing, which was your duty, so I’m not entirely sure why you haven’t left yet.”

 

“I’m to be a part of the City Watch, seeing as I no longer have an oath to serve.” Brienne’s bitterness was delightful to Cersei’s ears.

 

“Oh! Yes, I remember now, Jaime mentioned it last night. I’d forgotten, we did have so much to talk about… Amongst other things.”

 

“Last night? I thought that you and Jaime only saw each other for a few minutes?”

 

“Oh, no, that was just at first, not that it’s any of your concern. We had a bit of a misunderstanding, you see, but he came back later to apologise. We were up all night, making up for lost time. He told me how he was so glad to be back, apparently all those nights on the road were so unbearable. It’s lucky that Sansa’s already married to Tyrion, or he’d have to waste time trying to reunite her with what’s left of her family, that half brother on The Wall.”

“He found out about Sansa last night? He was glad?”

 

“He was laughing with relief. Anyway, Jaime did ask me to come see him this afternoon, but I find myself rather peckish, so I think I’ll just head off for some lunch first. It was lovely to meet you, Brienne of Tarth.” And Cersei left, noting with pleasure the dumbfounded look on the big girl’s face.

 

**Brienne**

Brienne pounded on Jaime’s door, pushing past him aggressively, and slamming it closed behind her.

 

“What’s the ma-”

 

“You _lied_ to me! You told me that you only just found out about Sansa Stark! You said you’d try to help me!” She screamed at him, distraught at his betrayal.

 

“I will, I promise! I don’t understand why-”

 

“Don’t bother lying to me, _Kingslayer_ , I know the truth. Your sister told me everything.”

 

“My sister told you? What did she tell you, exactly? The truth? It’ll be a harrowing day indeed when Cersei finds it in herself to tell the truth!” His voice was just as angry as her own was, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t some credibility to his words. But she had to know for certain, she’d been deceived too many times.

 

“She told me that you went back to her last night. That you said you were relieved that Sansa was already married so that you wouldn’t have to waste time looking after her, so that you wouldn’t have to spend any more time with me.” Brienne walked past him, annoyed, determined not to cry. She felt his arms slip around her waist, dragging her back as he pressed himself against her.

 

“That’s me,” He snarled into her neck, making her shiver involuntarily as his breath caught on her skin, “The Kingslayer.” He dug his nails in slightly at her side, not quite enough to cause pain, but enough to let her know of the pain that her words had caused him. “Man without honour. An oath breaker. A liar.”

 

“Let me go.” She whispered with as much force as she could muster, the feeling of his lips against her skin had rendered her almost speechless, and she knew then that Cersei had played her. Jaime was telling the truth.

 

“No.” He growled back, although he did loosen his grip somewhat. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but couldn’t quite get free.

 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked him, desperate to get away, but at the same time willing him to never let go. This time he released her, pushing her away from him as he turned around, running his fingers through his hair in anguish. He never answered her question, so she asked again. “Why are you doing this?” He still didn’t answer, so she grabbed his arm, turning him to face her, gazing deep into his emerald eyes, and noticing how the sunlight made them appear flecked with gold.

 

“You really want to know?” He shouted at her; the aggression that had abated in her was still very much present in his tone of voice.

 

“Yes.” She replied, afraid of the answer. He took several deep breaths, lowering his head to stare at the ground, before slowly raising it again to look back at her. The anger was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made Brienne want to blush.

 

“Because… I love you. I love you, Brienne.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, so Jaime finally told Brienne that he loves her!!! I've now put up all the chapters that I've written so far, so from here on in, I will endeavour to update once a week. As always, please do post your comments, as I love to see what people think :)


	10. An Oath to Fulfil

**Brienne**

Her world seemed to shatter around her at Jaime’s confession, replaced by fear, disbelief, and a longing that she’d never allowed herself to feel before; a longing to be loved, _truly_ loved. She always figured that her father would eventually want her to retire as a knight, and reclaim her place as the Maid of Tarth, and if she ever did get married it would be to some hedge knight who was only interested in her position as the heir, so to hear the words ‘I love you’ spoken so sincerely… It filled her heart with a joy that threatened to overwhelm her. Jaime bit his lip nervously as the silence spread around them, until finally he could bear it no more, and he spoke.

 

“Brienne? I’d really appreciate a response from you, right about now.” He tried to keep his tone light, but she could sense the urgency and desperation underlying his words.

 

“I-” she began, her voice cracking as she tried to speak despite the flood of emotions. “I need to go train.” She finished, unable to express to him how she felt. She wanted to trust him, wanted it _so badly_ , but she’d been played by men too many times, and she couldn’t bear for this to be just a game. _Not Jaime, please don’t let this be just a game to him. Not after everything we’ve been through._ She turned to leave, but her feet refused to move, and almost without a thought she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before hurrying out of the door, with Jaime calling her name behind her.

 

She had been intending to go to the training yard to clear her head, but realised that what she really needed was to sit down and think things through. She considered just going back to her room, but she was afraid that Jaime would find her there, so she tried to think of somewhere else in this castle that she could go to be completely alone. _The Godswood_. Of course, she didn’t believe in the Old Gods, they were for people of the North, but she expected that at least she’d have some privacy, and the cool afternoon air would be a pleasant reminder of what was real. When she got there she was relieved to find it deserted, as she’d expected it to be.

 

 _Jaime told me that he loves me._ “Jaime told me that he loves me.” She spoke the words out loud, allowed them to become real, as the gentle breeze swallowed her voice. This was the first time since Renly that she’d had feelings for a man. Part of her wanted to laugh at the fact that for once in her life she felt a love that was requited, but another part wanted to cry for what she knew could never be. Like he’d told her on their journey, he was a knight of the Kingsguard and she had an oath to fulfil. Their places were apart. Brienne silently berated herself for the way she’d reacted, and blushed furiously when she recalled how she’d kissed him on the cheek. It was such a _girly_ thing to do. Maybe Cersei had been right, maybe she had only been _playing_ at knight; a true knight wouldn’t be fawning over Jaime Lannister the way that she was. She should have just admitted the truth to him… Or maybe she shouldn’t, she just didn’t know any more! A small gasp from behind disrupted Brienne from her thoughts, and she turned to see a young girl slinking away.

 

“Wait!” Brienne called out. The girl turned around.

 

**Sansa**

Sansa hurriedly stifled the tears that had been threatening to surface, as she turned to face the woman sat underneath the Heart Tree. She’d been hoping to go unnoticed, she needed to be alone, but clearly the woman had heard her, so Sansa took a deep breath and forced what she hoped was a realistic smile.

 

“You’re Sansa Stark.” The woman stated. It wasn’t a question. Sansa nodded, desperately trying to recognise the woman, but she didn’t seem familiar.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you, my lady.” The woman stood up, and Sansa noted how incredibly tall she was, but was determined not to stare. Spending the past year in the Red Keep and taught her that she should never stare; it could cause offence, and if she offended the wrong people, then Meryn Trant’s fist would soon remind her not to.

 

“I’m Brienne of Tarth.” The woman extended a hand which Sansa shook, surprised at how calloused the fingers were, they felt more like a man’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I’ve come a long way to find you… I knew Lady Catelyn.” Sansa’s heart ached with the grief that she always felt whenever her mother was mentioned.

 

“Why would you want to find me? I’m just the daughter of a traitor.” It saddened Sansa to have to speak of her father that way, but she’d grown used to it during the time when she’d been betrothed to Joffrey. Much as she could never describe her own marriage to Tyrion as _happy_ , at least The Imp wasn’t a monster like the King.

 

“Ned Stark wasn’t a traitor, he was an honourable man. I’m here to help you. I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn that I would bring Jaime Lannister back here, in return for your safe deliverance. I intend to keep my word. I am yours, my lady.” Brienne sank to her knees, for once a movement that didn’t seem awkward on the woman. Sansa allowed the woman’s sincerity to give her the strength to speak honestly.

 

“My father wasn’t a traitor.” She confirmed. It felt so refreshing to admit that to someone else, she always had to guard her tongue whilst inside the castle, but here in the Godswood, there were no spies. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Can you really help me? Tyrion’s not a bad man, compared to the rest of them he’s kind, but I don’t love him. Eventually they’ll force us to consummate the marriage, and I really don’t want that. Please help me.”

 

“Don’t worry, Sansa. Ser Jaime is devising a plan to help you escape, and I-”

 

“Ser Jaime the Kingslayer?” Sansa gasped, suddenly fearful. If this woman was in league with the Lannisters, then maybe this was all a trap. She’d said too much already, if any of it got back to the Queen… _I’m such an idiot! I should never have trusted her, I don’t even know this woman!_

“He’s not the monster you think, I’ve travelled with him, and-”

 

“He pushed my little brother from a window!” If Sansa was going to be killed for treason, then she’d at least go honourably, in memory of her family.

 

“And I promise you he feels bad about that. Jaime Lannister doesn’t often regret things, whatever else he is, he usually stands by his convictions, but pushing your brother is one of the few things that he feels truly ashamed of. He told me. He’s a changed man, Sansa, he’s a good man. He’s kind, and loyal, and despite what people may think he’s honourable too.” Sansa saw the way that Brienne’s cheeks flushed with pride when talking about him, she obviously believed what she was saying. Sansa exhaled, realising that she wasn’t in danger after all. This woman was honest.

 

“I want to believe you, Brienne, but I can’t trust a man like him just based on what you say. Especially seeing as you’re biased.”

 

“Biased? What do you mean?”

 

“Forgive me, but from the way you talk, it couldn’t be clearer that you’re in love with him. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to think about, and my Lord husband will be wondering where I am.” Sansa curtsied, and then quickly hurried away without another glance back.

 

**Jaime**

He watched his wench walk away, standing stunned, as he felt ultra-conscious of the cheek that she’d just kissed. He considered going after her, but decided against it, he wanted to give her time to ponder his words. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually told her. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected her reaction to be, but it certainly hadn’t been that. He thought that perhaps she’d slap him, run away, he’d even hoped that she might declare her love for him, but she’d acted so rationally that at first he wondered whether she’d even heard him. _And then she kissed me._ It was only on the cheek, but that meant more to Jaime than any of Cersei’s kisses ever had, as he knew that Brienne had trouble showing her feelings, and so that must have taken a lot of courage. He wondered how long he should wait before going to see her… Probably not too long. Brienne was probably already trying to rationalise away his words, and he needed her to know that he truly meant them, that he hadn’t just been saying that in the heat of the moment.

 

He put on his Kingsguard uniform before stepping out of his room; he’d only been back a day, but certain duties were expected of him, and he didn’t want to seem to be shirking his responsibilities. Besides, if people saw him in his golden armour, they were less likely to question why he was visiting the Maidenvault. He didn’t hurry, he was trying to compose himself and work out what, if anything, he should say to Brienne when he got there. _She needs to know that I don’t expect anything of her, that I don’t want her to abandon her oath, or to change her ways. I just want her to be herself._ Then an idea occurred to him. He smiled as he realised one sure-fire way to show her how much he respects her, and also an opportunity for her to let her guard down, and he stepped up his pace. Eventually he reached her door, and he took a second to clear his throat, before knocking.

 

“Brienne?” He called hesitantly. There was no reply, nor indeed any sound at all within. _Is she simply ignoring me?_ “It’s me, Jaime. Can I come in? We should talk.” There was still no answer, and Jaime was beginning to become frustrated. He’d bared his heart to her, and she was going to leave him wondering like this? It was making him anxious, and he didn’t like feeling like this, it was unsettling.

 

“Jaime?” A voice behind him asked. _Finally_ , he thought, turning to speak to her. But it was not Brienne stood before him, but Cersei. She must have noticed the disappointment on his face, for she became suddenly annoyed. He pushed past her, but she grabbed his arm and turned him to face her.

 

“Leave me alone, Cersei.” He didn’t have time for her games, especially not right now.

 

“Jaime, where are you going? We need to talk, dear brother. I’m _so_ sorry for how I acted yesterday, it was just shock. I hadn’t thought to see you again, and then you were returned broken. It just made me feel sad, that’s all. I want you back.” She sounded so needy, so desperate. She really didn’t get it; she couldn’t understand that Jaime had moved on.

 

“Cersei. How much clearer can I make this? _I don’t love you._ You have lied to me, manipulated me, and hurt me. I am going to stay and do my duty by that vile son of yours, but-” He couldn’t finish his sentence, because as soon as he insulted Joffrey, Cersei swung her hand out to slap him hard across the face.

 

“Don’t you dare speak of him that way,” she hissed, “he is your _king!_ Your _nephew!_ ” She glared at him, and Jaime leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

 

“We both know that technically he is neither.” He leaned back again, and smiled mockingly. “Now go do whatever it is that you do, and leave me be. I have more important matters to attend.”

 

“You mean that ugly beast, Brienne?” Cersei chimed in. It took all of Jaime’s self-restraint not to hit her at that, but he would never be provoked into striking a woman.

 

“Brienne is far more of a woman than you will ever be, Cersei. She may not be beautiful like you, and she may not have your understanding of political intricacy, but she has honour, and loyalty, and they are far more admirable qualities.” Jaime could have listed so many more things that he loved about Brienne, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be playing down his relationship with Brienne so that people didn’t grow suspicious. “But actually no, I said good bye to her yesterday, she’s going to be joining the City Watch. I was on my way to the training yard, and wondered if I might find Ser Addam here, as Brienne had an incident earlier. I wanted to ask if he would spar with me, as we used to before the war.”

 

“Oh.” Cersei sounded convinced, and Jaime was always amazed at how quickly she’d believe something if it was what she wanted to hear. He took her silence as a chance to leave, and he headed towards the training yard, disheartened.

 

**Brienne**

Her encounter with Sansa had reminded her of her real duty; Jaime was just a distraction. She should be focusing on working out a way to rescue the young Stark girl, and to do that she’d need to work things out with Jaime. _I’ll have to tell him I don’t love him._ But the thought of lying to him made her stomach churn, and to tell him that she didn’t love him would definitely be a lie. Even Sansa had picked up on it. No, lying definitely wasn’t an option, but neither was telling the truth. Avoiding the subject entirely might just be the best course of action here. Brienne sighed deeply, and made her way to the training yard, hoping to take out her frustrations on a practice dummy.

 

When she got there she headed straight for the armoury, and took one of the blunted swords; it was probably better for her to not have a sharp edge right now, her mind was all over the place. She kept her eyes firmly on the dummy in front of her, not wanting to be distracted by any odd looks that she might be getting. She wasn’t wearing her gold cloak, as she didn’t officially start until tomorrow, and she wanted to enjoy her last day of freedom. _Every other man who’s ever made a move of me has been making fun of me._ She swung hard at the dummy, recalling the cruel mockery of the men in Renly’s camp. _I’m ugly and unladylike._ She lunged this time, piercing the dummy despite the lack of a pointed edge. _Jaime wouldn’t tease me, he wouldn’t._ She swung again, a little less forcefully. _Even if he did truly love me, it wouldn’t matter. He’s a knight of the Kingsguard, and I’ve sworn an oath._ The same phrases had been running around in her head all afternoon, but that still didn’t make the truth any less hard. She took another swing, wondering where Jaime was.

 

“Brienne.” It was him; his voice was muffled, and he sounded slightly out of breath, but she always recognised his voice. She turned to face him as he removed his helm, his piercing emerald eyes gazing deeply into hers, and she felt her grip on the sword weaken.

 

“Ser Jaime,” She replied awkwardly, still unsure of what to say to him, despite having thought of little else all day, and she watched his mouth twitch upwards. She decided to bring up an entirely different subject. “I spoke to Sansa earlier, I told her of…” She became suddenly aware of the other people in the yard, and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I told her of our _plan._ ”

 

“And what did she say?” Jaime asked. _She said that I was obviously in love with you,_ Brienne thought, but she figured it best not to mention that to him.

 

“She’s been here for a long time; she’s learned not to trust anyone too easily. I think she believes me, but she’s having trouble trusting you, I’m afraid.” Jaime nodded sadly at Brienne’s words.

 

“I don’t blame her, she’s probably suffered enough at the hands of our family. I’ll seek her out tomorrow, to try and gain her trust.” The inflection at the end of his sentence told Brienne that this conversation was over for now, and she shuddered at what she knew was about to come. But to her surprise, Jaime raised his sword, and tapped it playfully against hers. “I’ve been a long time away, and since losing a hand, my sword skills have become a little rusty. Might I have the honour of sparring with the best new knight in the City Watch?” Brienne felt unspeakably touched by his words; it was the kindest thing he could have said. Not only did he not try and force her to talk about her feelings, but he called her a ‘knight’, and that meant so much to her. It showed that he truly accepted the life choices she had made for herself, and she knew then that he would never try and make her act like someone that she wasn’t. He hadn’t been asking for commitment, or trying to limit her when he’d told her he loved her, he was simply giving her the truth. She finally knew what she would say to him.

“Jaime?” He raised an inquisitory eyebrow at her in that adorable way of his, and the sight boosted her confidence. “I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much trouble with this chapter, I can’t even begin to tell you. Because Brienne is usually so stoic in the books, it was very hard deciding how she was likely to react to his declaration, so I hope I’ve kept it in character. I needed to have her make a realistic decision, but also one that would keep the fic moving along at the right pace. Please let me know what you think! :)


	11. Very Good Company

**Tyrion**

The candle light slowly dwindled, and Tyrion reluctantly put down the book he had been reading, as he glanced over at his wife’s sleeping form on the bed. In truth, he hadn’t been paying much attention to the book, but he needed something to keep himself occupied, as sleep was likely to be an uncomfortable affair tonight. He’d decided he would be staying in the chair, as Sansa had seemed very distracted since she returned from her walk, and although she never said it, he knew that it repulsed her to be in the same bed as him. _And why shouldn’t it, as my father is always telling me, I am a grotesque little creature._ How he loathed his father. _Well,_ he thought, _my father can make us marry, he can even make us share a room, but he will never compel me to force myself on her._ He really wished that he could make her happier, though. Usually, his wit was enough to make people laugh; as a dwarf, it was his only real defence against the real world, that and the fact that he was a Lannister. But in Sansa’s case, his wit seemed to do little to raise her spirits, and his being a Lannister made everything a whole lot worse. He sighed as he shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable.

 

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard a gentle knock at the door, so quiet, he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. He slipped off the chair and waddled his way to the door, opening it slowly and standing outside before looking up to see who was disturbing him at this late hour.

 

“Tyrion,” a familiar voice greeted him warmly. Tyrion stared in shock at the man who he’d believed dead.

 

“Jaime?” To see him here after all this time, Tyrion was delighted. He’d always loved his brother dearly, as Jaime was the only one who’d treated him with any respect and kindness.

 

“So, I see that father didn’t tell you that I’d come back.”

 

“He did not.” Tyrion took in Jaime’s composure; there was something different about him, less arrogant. Then he noticed the stump that hung loosely at Jaime’s left side. “Ah. I suppose I’m the handsome one now!” Jaime grinned and gestured to Tyrion’s scar.

 

“Don’t think there’s any risk of that yet. I would have come to see you sooner, but I’ve been very busy, and I’d hoped that either our father or sister would have informed you of my return.” Jaime sounded apologetic, but there was also a continuous smile pulling at his features, and Tyrion was glad to have his brother back again. In truth, he often felt like his brother was his only true friend.

 

“Very busy, indeed? This sounds intriguing, let us discuss it over a drink of wine. Though perhaps, not in my bed chambers, I wouldn’t want to wake my lady wife. Come, the kitchens are just along from here.”

 

“Actually, not right now, Tyrion, it’s quite late after all, I just wanted to see you before I headed to bed. It’s been a long day, and if I settle down to drink with you, I’ll likely be knocked out until tomorrow evening!”

“I see you haven’t forgotten me after all,” Tyrion winked. “Well, you’ve seen me now, is that all you wanted, or is there something on your mind? You know I’ve always been very good at reading people, Jaime, so don’t try to hide it. Yes, there’s clearly something bothering you.”

 

“You’re an annoyingly clever dwarf, you know that?” Tyrion knew that Jaime meant no cruelty with his words, and the accompanying smile assured him of it. “If you must know, it concerns a woman…”

 

“A woman? Is this about our sweet sister Cersei, has she spurned your affections?”

 

“You knew about Cersei?” Jaime whispered, shocked.

 

“Did you really think I was as blind as father? Of course I knew. But your reaction tells me that it isn’t her after all, so, come on, details, who is this mysterious lady?”

 

“Her name’s Brienne, we travelled to King’s Landing together. She supported me when I lost my hand. I hate to admit it Tyrion, but I’m not sure that I would have survived that without her, she was my strength and for that I’ll always owe her.”

 

“And how exactly does one go about losing a hand?”

 

“Lady Catelyn released me, and sent Brienne to escort me back to King’s Landing in exchange for Sansa and Arya. But we were captured by the Bloody Mummers and taken to Harrenhal, they’re the ones who cut off my hand. Bolton was going to send me back to King’s Landing, but I couldn’t just leave Brienne behind to be raped and killed, not after all we’d been through. So, I… I suppose I rescued her.”

 

“And then you fell in love with her.” Tyrion didn’t phrase it as a question, it was obvious where this conversation was headed.

 

“And then I fell in love with her.” Jaime admitted. “I tried to keep it a secret, but then Cersei made Brienne so angry with me, and I needed her to understand that I wasn’t a bad person, so I told her how I felt. And then, earlier today, she told me that she loved me too.”

 

“Well, a Kingsguard can’t marry, but I’m pretty sure there’s also something in the rules about not killing the king, so I’m sure you’ll find a way around it.”

 

“Ha! Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to become a better man. Besides, Brienne is so honourable she makes the Starks seem corrupt. She told me that she loved me, but I don’t know what to do now. I couldn’t discuss it with her earlier because Addam Marbrand came over and suggested she trained with the rest of the City Watch, and thinking about it by myself just makes me want to stab things.”

 

“Come on, dear brother, we’re going for that drink.” Tyrion insisted, grabbing Jaime’s arm, but his brother shook him off.

 

“Perhaps tomorrow, Tyrion, right now I should really get some sleep. Thanks for the talk, though. It was good to see you again.” Jaime bent to hug Tyrion, before departing back up the corridor, as Tyrion went back to his chair. The candle was all but extinguished. _It was good to see you too, brother._

 

**Brienne**

This was going to be her last night in a luxury bed, as tomorrow she’d be moving to her new quarters with the rest of the City Watch, yet she just couldn’t get to sleep. She’d been tossing and turning for well over an hour, trying to clear her head, but all she could think was _Jaime_. She wondered where he was right now, whether he was having as much difficulty sleeping as she was. She doubted it. Jaime was pretty impulsive, and tended to live his life in the moment, he’d rarely taken longer than a few minutes before he started snoring away. Yet a _nother way that we’re different,_ she pondered. It was too late to think like that, though. He’d admitted to loving her, and she’d admitted to loving him, so whichever way they chose to go from here, their relationship was going to be changed. Not that they had much choice about where to go from here. Brienne had her honour to think of, and the idea of having a physical relationship outside of marriage was abhorrent to her.

 

She’d never really spent much time considering marriage, as before Renly, she’d never had strong feelings for a man. But Renly and Jaime were so different, the situations so dissimilar. With Renly, it had always been unrequited, and she’d known that it always would be. Whilst she tried not to listen to rumours, as a member of his Kingsguard it had been hard for her to ignore the fact that Loras Tyrell had gone into Renly’s tent a little more often than seemed normal, and a lot more often than his wife Margaery had. She’d always known that she’d never have a chance with him, but that hadn’t stopped her _hoping_ , _wishing_ things could’ve been different, and her heart had jumped every time that Renly had spoken to her. She’d liked him from the moment she’d met him, completely unlike with Jaime. She’d hated Jaime. She’d hated the fact that he was the Kingslayer, she’d felt burdened about having to spend so much time with such a dishonourable, arrogant man. But then she’d come to know him, _truly_ know him, and had seen the real Jaime Lannister. He wasn’t the monster she’d always thought him to be, but a loyal, sensitive, accepting man who hid behind a mask of charisma, and Brienne knew what it was like to have to wear a mask. _We have so much in common._ She found herself almost wishing that there could be a possibility for marriage with him, but that would mean him leaving the Kingsguard, and she knew now that he did care about his honour, and that he felt it was his sworn duty to protect his King… Brienne could understand that. Eventually, she settled into a dreamless sleep.

 

She was awoken early the following morning by a knock at the door. Groaning, she forced herself out of bed, and walked over to open it, not bothering to put on shoes, and regretting it as her bare feet touched the cold ground… Winter was truly coming. She tugged the door open, and was greeted by Jaime Lannister’s smirking face.

 

“You overslept. You’re going to be late for duty if you’re not careful, and I don’t want Addam blaming me for your lack of reliability.” He winked at her. “Can I come in?” Wordlessly, she stepped aside to let him through, wishing that she was wearing something more flattering than just her linen tunic and trousers that she’d slept in. He seemed to sense her thoughts. “Relax, I just want to talk, and I really don’t care what you’re wearing. Even in your sleeping clothes you’ll always look a lot better than when you were wearing that hideous pink gown.” Brienne had to smile at the memory; it had truly looked awful on her. Jaime sauntered over to her bed, staggering a bit as he did so, before jumping onto it, leaving her door ajar. She shut it behind her.

 

“Jaime, are you drunk?” She asked him, a bit concerned.

 

“Probably, I spent some time catching up with Tyrion this morning.” He replied as an explanation, waving her concern off with a flick of his hand. “I’m fine, really. But Tyrion told me that I should try and catch you before you left to guard the city, so I did!” He finished with a flourish, as though proud of his ability to knock on a door.

 

“I really don’t know what there is to say that we haven’t already said, Jaime.” She sighed, sitting down next to him, and feeling incredibly awkward. He shifted himself closer so that they were touching, and she could feel the cold of his Kingsguard armour against her skin. He smiled warmly at her.

 

“I meant it when I said ‘I love you’.” He paused, squeezing her hand for an instant before continuing, “But I also meant it when I said I’d help you rescue Sansa, that’s why I’m here. Well, it’s my excuse to be here, at any rate, I won’t deny that I just wanted to see your face.” Brienne blushed furiously. “Joffrey’s wedding to Maergery is coming up in a week, and I’ve been thinking that it may be the perfect opportunity. Everyone will be focused on the bride and groom, so nobody is likely to pay much attention to Sansa, or question the actions of a gold cloak leaving the ceremony a bit early. My idea was to wait until about halfway through the feast, when some of the guests start leaving, and have you slip out to pack some of Sansa’s things. If anyone spots you going into Sansa’s room, just say that she asked you to fetch her a piece of jewellery, or something. Then, you come back and wait just outside the throne room, ready to escort her. Meanwhile, I’ll offer Lady Sansa a dance, and move her across the room so that she’s near the door. I then make my way back to the table, and cause a diversion by ‘accidentally’ spilling wine on the Queen. While everybody is fussing over that, you take Sansa and escape out one of the many hidden passages that I know this castle has. We have a week to figure out exactly which one. What do you think?” Brienne stared, stunned, as he finished detailing his idea. It was brilliant.

 

“That’s… Actually a really smart plan.”

 

“No need to sound so shocked, wench. I am more than just a pretty face, you know.” He grinned disarmingly at her.

 

“The only problem is that Sansa still doesn’t trust you, I can’t see her even agreeing to dance with you, let alone go along with this plan.”

 

“Which is why I’m going to change her mind. I’m having lunch with Tyrion and Sansa this afternoon, so I guess I’ll just have to use my endless charm. I would’ve invited you along, but it’d look suspicious, and besides, you’re a knight of the City Watch now, you have other places to be.”

 

“How are we going to tell her the plan, though? We can’t possibly let Tyrion in on this.”

 

“I know.” Jaime muttered sadly, “I hate to deceive my brother, but she’s his wife, whether they’re happy about it or not. It’d be too dangerous to let him know. I had breakfast with him this morning, though, and he mentioned that she’s been very upset since she found out about the red w-, since she found out about her mother and brother. I suggested that perhaps she’d like a new friend, and put forward that you make very good company.”

 

“You think I’m good company?” Brienne asked. _You fool, Brienne, stay on topic! You need to fulfil your oath to Catelyn Stark, this isn’t about Jaime!_

 

“It will be up to you to convince her of this plan, and in the meantime, I’ll try to make her like me. Anyway, you should report to the Mud Gate, that’s where new recruits are always stationed; you don’t want to be late.” She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he’d ignored her question. He got up to leave, and she escorted him to the door, stopping as turned the handle.

 

“Goodbye, Jaime.”

 

“Oh, and for the record,” he said, turning back to her, one leg out the door. “I think you’re _very_ good company.” He pulled her hand to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss, his lips lingering a little longer than was proper, before pulling away and beaming at her. Brienne hurriedly closed the door and got dressed in her City Watch uniform, before marching out of her room, intent on thinking about her duty, and not the warmth of Jaime’s smile.

 

**The boy**

From his position inside the wall, the boy had heard everything. He waited until he was sure that the footsteps had receded, before easing himself back along the hidden passageway, towards the main castle. Lord Varys would want to hear this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took so long to write! I’ve been very busy, and was struggling to work out where to go from here, so lo and behold, a cliffhanger! Hopefully I’ll be back on target now, and should have the next chapter ready by the following weekend.


	12. The Basis of Trust

**Sansa**

Sansa sat nervously at the table in her husband’s solar, waiting for the knock at the door that she knew would be coming any minute now. Tyrion had explained that his brother, Jaime, would be joining them for lunch, and of course she’d smiled and nodded like any good wife would, but inside she was reeling. This was the man who’d pushed her little brother from a window, and she was going to have to pretend to enjoy his company. She wondered what her father would think of her, and then remembered that she’d been betrothed to the boy who’d ordered his death. _My father would understand, he denounced his own honour to try to protect me and Arya. He’d want me to stay safe._ She was startled from her thoughts by the door creaking open, she hadn’t even heard the knock. Jaime Lannister strode in, and bowed when she stood before him.

 

“Lady Sansa, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He spoke without a trace of sarcasm, but Sansa could not believe that he was changed enough to mean well, despite what Brienne had told her. She knew the polite thing to do would be to offer him her hand to kiss, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. To his credit, Jaime didn’t so much as mention her lack of courtesy as he continued past her to pat his brother on the back, before sitting down opposite her at the table.

 

“Be seated, Sansa.” Tyrion told her, with a sharp glance in her direction. She’d been standing next to her seat, watching them, and she hastily sat back down.

 

“You look well, my lord.” Sansa said, trying her best not to glare at him. He smiled at her, with what looked like amusement.

 

“We both know that’s a lie. I did try to brush up my appearance before meeting with you both, but I’m afraid that I grew rather gaunt whilst I was… Away. Plus, my Kingsguard uniform doesn’t look nearly so handsome minus one gauntlet.” He raised his handless arm briefly to demonstrate his point. “How are you enjoying King’s Landing? I’ve barely seen you since we left Winterfell together, it seems like a lifetime ago.”  _It was a lifetime ago for my father, thanks to your nephew_ , Sansa thought, but she kept that to herself.

 

“I am happy to be here with my Lord husband. House Lannister has been very gracious to me.” The words flowed from her without effort these days, it was almost a struggle to remember who she really was. Jaime nodded to her, and reached out for some bread, before turning to his brother.

 

“You mentioned earlier that Lady Sansa doesn’t have very many female companions with which to spend time?”

 

“Yes, she is very close with Lady Margaery, but seeing as the young Tyrell girl is soon to be wed to King Joffrey, I expect she won’t have as much free time to spend with her.” Tyrion smiled at Sansa as he said this. She knew that he tried to take an interest in her life, but it was pointless. She could never be happy in this place; there were too many bad memories.

 

“I travelled with a woman named Brienne, she was in service to your mother, Lady Catelyn. She’s joined the City Watch now, but she’ll have regular breaks, and I know that she’d be pleased to get to know you, if you’re interested? She could tell you stories about her time as a knight if you’d like that, or just have nice girly conversations. Brienne may seem tough when you meet her, but she has a soft heart. You’d like her.” Jaime’s voice was so gentle when he addressed her, that for a moment Sansa could almost forget that she was talking to a murderer. He did seem to genuinely care, and he was keeping a secret from his own brother, because Sansa knew that Brienne would have told him about their meeting in the Godswood. Now was the time for her to make her decision. She could refuse Jaime’s offer, and just continue living life as it was, or she could take a gamble, and try to trust the Kingslayer, and this stranger, Brienne. _It would be foolish of me to have hope_.

 

“Yes, I’d like that very much. Thank you, ser.” _I guess there’s some hope left in me after all._

**Brienne**

Her first day as part of the City Watch was incredibly dull. Brienne stood by the mud gate for 6 hours, along with another guard who was either mute, or just refused to talk to other people. In that time, the only other people she encountered were a scout returning to the Keep, and a family bringing a cart laden with food to sell. She understood why this was where the Lord Commander sent his new recruits, it would be a waste of soldiers to put anyone more seasoned here. However, it did give her time to think, and plan what she would say to Sansa when she hopefully saw her later. _If Jaime upheld his promise, that is._ But she didn’t doubt him, she firmly believed that Jaime would keep his word. _Am I always this naïve, or only when it comes to the people I love?_ Brienne wasn’t sure that she had an answer for that. She’d ridden off to war because she wanted to fight for her king, she wanted to be a true knight, but even that was partly because of the fact that she was in love with Renly Baratheon. Beneath her armour, she was still just a foolish little girl really, and that irked her. She wanted to be brave and strong like the men in the songs, but all the things she’d seen real knights do had started to make her think that maybe there really was no honour left. Trusting Jaime Lannister was her last opportunity to see herself proved wrong. And so she trusted him, for the sake of her heart.

 

When her shift finally ended, she nodded goodbye to her silent companion, and headed back to her chambers. She wanted the Stark girl to feel comfortable, and so had decided not to go fully dressed in armour. She wasn’t going to wear a gown either, so in the end she settled for plain brown leather breeches, and a white tunic. It wasn’t particularly flattering, but nor was it intimidating, so she fastened on her gold cloak, and went to meet Lady Sansa. When she arrived at Lord Tyrion’s chambers she knocked and stood back, suddenly nervous. She was about to meet Jaime’s brother for the first time, and absurdly was very keen to make a good first impression. She’d never cared before what people thought of her, but she knew how highly Jaime thought of his brother, and it was because of this that she was so concerned for him to like her. She needn’t have worried, when Tyrion opened the door, he gave her a crooked grin, and beckoned her in.

 

“You must be Brienne of Tarth! It’s good to finally meet you! My brother Jaime has told me so much about your journey together. I must admit, I had hoped that you wouldn’t be quite as tall as he described you, it makes me feel even shorter than usual, the two of you are alike in that respect.” He offered his hand to her, raising it above his head, and she took it firmly and shook it.

 

“Nice to meet you too, Lord Tyrion. Jaime always speaks very fondly of you.”

 

“Ah, it’s been so long since anyone has referred to me as a ‘Lord’, usually it’s either ‘Imp’ or ‘Halfman’. Maybe if you stay around him long enough, your respect would rub off on Jaime. But please, call me Tyrion.” He paused to smile at her, before giving her a sombre look, “Sansa has been feeling understandably down since the Red Wedding, so I appreciate you agreeing to be her friend. I would love to see her be happier, and Jaime assures me that you’re the right woman for the job. Please try and cheer her up.”

 

“I will try my very best, Lord Tyrion.” She wasn’t quite ready to take him up on his offer to drop the ‘Lord’, she preferred to keep a veil of formality in any social situations. Even with Jaime it had taken a long time to let her guard down.

 

“Sansa!” Tyrion called into the bed chamber, and a few seconds later, Sansa appeared, and gave a curtsey in Brienne’s direction.

 

“Would you accompany me on a walk, Lady Sansa?” Brienne asked her, “I have heard that the Godswood here is very beautiful, we could go there?”

 

“I’d like that.” Sansa muttered, following Brienne out of the door.

 

“Have a nice walk!” Tyrion called after them, amiably.

 

They made the walk to the Godswood in silence, not until they were safely within the shade of the heart tree did Sansa turn and look Brienne in the eye.

 

“Do you truly mean to help me, Brienne? Is this part of your plan, can you really get me out of here?” The young girl was gushing her words out like a waterfall, desperation clutching at her small voice.

 

“That’s my intention, Ser Jaime’s too. I trust you were able to speak to him earlier?”

 

“Briefly.”

 

“And do you feel that you’d be able to trust him?” Brienne asked this delicately, not wanting to push Sansa for an answer that she didn’t mean.

 

“I don’t know; I want to, but it’s hard, knowing who he is. How are you able to trust him, Brienne?” Sansa’s eyes were probing her for the truth, so she decided to give it.

 

“For a thousand reasons. All my life men have sneered at me, mocked me for my size, condemned me for my choice to be a warrior. Jaime understands me, he respects me, and he accepts me. And he’s saved me… Many, many times. We were captured by the Bloody Mummers when we were travelling to King’s Landing, and I’d kept him prisoner all that time, had treated him like the monster I thought to be. When we arrived at the Mummer’s camp, they-” Brienne paused, not sure if she should be telling this next bit to an impressionable girl such as Sansa, but decided that it was necessary, “they were going to rape me. Jaime was tied to a tree, out of danger, but instead of allowing them to do it, he made them stop, and he lost his hand because of it. He was in agony, and had become a cripple in the process of protecting my honour, and yet not once did he blame me when he so easily could have; instead he took responsibility for his decision. Later, after he’d had his stump sewn up,” Brienne noted the grimace on Sansa’s face when she spoke of Jaime’s stump, “he had some time alone with me. And he told me the story of when he slew the Mad King. It’s not my place to divulge his secrets, my lady, but I assure you that were I in his position I would have done the same. What Jaime did was a far more honourable deed than most knights could aspire to in a lifetime. And then Bolton offered Jaime his freedom, but I was to be kept behind. Allow me to put this in perspective. Jaime could have gone home with an escort to keep him safe, and he could have been back with his family, back to his old life, no quests to fulfil. Instead he chose to risk his life to help me escape, when I had been nothing but a burden on him, when I was partly to blame for his capture and his maiming. He rescued me, and is determined to rescue you too, so that he can keep his oath. And he doesn’t care about the glory, he doesn’t care about people thinking him dishonourable, all he cares about is knowing in his heart that he’s a good man. And that, lady Sansa is why I trust him.” Brienne finished, hoping that she’d said enough to convince the girl of Jaime’s trustworthiness. For a long time, they stood looking at each other, until eventually Sansa spoke.

 

“So how do we escape?”

 

**Cersei**

“You asked to see me, Lord Varys?” She asked sweetly, trying to keep an edge to her voice to assure the fat eunuch that she wouldn’t stand for any nonsense.

 

“That is correct, your grace, I was hoping that we could speak in private.” He gestured to her guard, and she dismissed the man with a wave of her hand. Varys waited until the man’s footsteps had faded before stepping closer to her. “I have some information that I thought might be of interest to you. Information concerning your brother, and a certain hostage of yours.”

 

“I don’t have time for your cryptic games, Varys, just tell me what it is you would have me know.” The man was undoubtedly useful, but his simpering attitude riled her. Weakness was a terrible trait for anyone, let alone a man. _Then again, I suppose he’s not really a man at all._

 

“I’ve always had a liking for your brother, he’s a very honest man, or, at least he was, but I’m afraid that his honesty seems to have faded since he last left. I have heard that he intends to steal from his grace, King Joffrey.”

 

“Steal? What would Jaime need to steal? We’re Lannisters, we have enough gold to buy anything we like, stealing anything would be pointless.”

 

“Ah, but what he means to steal cannot be bought with gold. He intends to free young Sansa Stark, to take her away from her King and her loving husband.” Varys’s words echoed in her ear, but she refused to believe them. No matter how long he’d been away, surely Jaime hadn’t changed so much that he would choose the Starks over his own family?

 

“You must have your facts wrong, Jaime would never do this.”

 

“It saddens me to say that the little bird who told me this information is very reliable, there is no doubt in my mind that this is the truth.”

 

“But why would he take Sansa, what would be in it for him?”

 

“Perhaps he’s merely interested in keeping his oath?” Varys suggested, and Cersei fought the impulse to laugh out loud. Jaime had never been very good at keeping his oath before; he’d slain his king, and had broken his vow of celibacy to be with her. _Then again, if he’s mad enough to break up with me, can I really put anything past him?_

 

“Well, I’ll just be sure to keep a closer eye on our dear Sansa from now on. Do you know when he intends to take her?”

 

“During Joffrey’s wedding to Margaery, your grace, he thought that it would be the best time. A very carefully thought out plan, really, such a shame that he’s chosen to betray the crown, he’d be rather useful as a commander.” Varys looked genuinely upset at the news, and Cersei considered the possibility that he’d maybe been an actor at some point in his life. _Jaime would betray me on our son’s wedding day._ Cersei wasn’t sure whether to be hurt or angry.

 

“Is that all?” She asked, wanting to be alone to consider what should be done about this development.

 

“There is one more thing, but I’m not sure that you’ll want to hear it.”

 

“Tell me.” Cersei glowered at him.

 

“As you wish. It would appear that he is in love with Brienne of Tarth.” Varys took a deep bow, and left the room, as Cersei felt her whole world collapse around her. _JAIME IS MINE!_ She silently screamed. The beast of Tarth was going to pay for this… They both were.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG chapter next time, so prepare for that! I’m afraid it will probably take 2 weeks for the update as I have a very busy schedule, but it should be worth the wait! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, sorry there wasn’t much Jaime/ Brienne, but this was necessary for the plot. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated :)


	13. Good bye, Ser Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay in writing this chapter, I've been very busy, so it's taken a while. This one's significantly longer than the other chapters, though, so hopefully that will make up for it.
> 
> I'd just like to reiterate that this story has an original plot, and so while this chapter focuses on Joffrey's wedding, there are NO SPOILERS from the books, and all the events in this are of my own imagining :)

**Cersei**

She hadn’t told anybody else about what Varys had revealed to her, nor had she allowed the man to speak to her about it again. She didn’t want to believe it, _Jaime wouldn’t do this._ The only way she was ever going to put her mind at ease was to see for herself if it was the truth, and so the wedding would be going ahead as planned, with no extra protection for Sansa. The girl had been warned never to try and escape, and she was so pathetic and malleable, she always did as she was told. Nevertheless, Cersei hadn’t been able to get the thought out of her head, so had decided to employ several of the guards as spies. They would watch Jaime, Sansa, and the awful Tarth woman, and had their orders to report back to Cersei with what they found. She was startled out of her reverie by a knock at the door.

 

“Cersei,” came a man’s voice. _I knew he’d come._

“Jaime,” She suppressed the pride in her heart, and forced herself to sound uninterested in him, “Come to your senses at last, have you?”

 

“Believe me when I say I don’t want to be here, but until tonight you’re acting Queen, and so it’s my job as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard to speak to you regarding the proceedings of this wedding. I just wanted to finalise a few details with you.”

 

“Jaime, I told you days ago what I expected from you and the rest of your Kingsguard. You will be standing at the table with the King and Lady Margaery, Ser Osmund Kettleblack will be watching over me. Ser Balon, Ser Boros, and Ser Meryn will be posted around the hall, and Ser Loras will be by the door. What is so hard to understand about that?”

 

“It’s my duty as the Lord Commander to ensure that the King is always fully protected, and I’ve been having my doubts with the current arrangement. I have lost my hand, _as you were so keen to point out to me upon my return_ , and so I am by no means the best suited to the position of being by the King’s side. I was thinking that it may be more prudent for me to stand by the door, and for Ser Loras to be at the high table with Lady Margaery and Joff-”

 

“ _King_ Joffrey, Jaime. Don’t forget his title.” Cersei could taste the bitterness in Jaime’s words, and wanted to remind him that it was she who held all the power, but to her annoyance he just smirked at her.

 

“I think I hold a unique position when it comes to how formal I should be expected to be around _Joffrey._ After all, I think there’s a certain title he never addresses me with… ‘Fath-’”

 

“Enough, Jaime!” Cersei shrieked, hastily looking around to ensure that they were indeed alone. “Okay, you may swap places with Ser Loras if you insist. Is there anything else?”

 

“Just one more thing; so that I can be sure on his safety, I’ll need the details of all the gold cloaks who will be present at the wedding, and where they will be posted. You can get those to me later, I’ll be in my solar, running some last minute preparations.” Jaime bowed theatrically to her, before taking his leave.

 

 _My sweet brother_ , Cersei thought, _my twin._ He had changed so much, and she knew that beast must be responsible. For now Cersei had to be patient, but she was not going to let Brienne of Tarth get away with what she’d done to Jaime. Sooner or later, there would be revenge. She remembered what Varys had said about Jaime, and for the first time since she’d heard about the supposed plot, she actually started to believe it… She hastily arranged her hair, and went off to speak to Varys.

 

**Sansa**

“It’s beautiful, Lord Tyrion, thank you!” Sansa couldn’t help but feel delight when she saw the stunning crimson dress that her husband had bought her for the wedding. The soft fabric trailed all the way to the floor, seeming to shimmer slightly as the light from the window bounced off the rubies lining the bodice. There was gold lace along the bottom and neck, with an expertly wrought golden lion clasp on the right shoulder. Sansa knew that she was a Stark, but in this moment, she was almost proud to be in the Lannister family, as she ran her hand along the seam. Then she remembered Ilyn Payne driving Ice down on to her father’s neck, and drew her hand away sharply.

 

“It’s the King’s wedding, I figured that one of us at least should look majestic,” Tyrion looked up at her with a wry smile on his lips, evidently pleased to see her happy. She was struck with sudden guilt for what she was planning to do tonight; she wondered what Lord Tywin would say to his son when they figured out what had happened. Tyrion may be a Lannister, but he was not a monster, and was no more responsible for Ned’s death than she herself was; he hadn’t even been present in King’s Landing at the time. She wondered if he would ever remarry after she left him, or whether his father would punish him with a life of solitude. She looked again at his crooked body, focused on the way his mismatched eyes stared kindly up at her, and felt overwhelmed with pity. In many ways, Tyrion had suffered at the hands of the Lannisters just as much as she had. She bent down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before drawing up straight again, and taking the dress from the maid.

 

“Truly, thank you,” she whispered, as she hurried into the bedroom with the maid to try on her new dress.

 

As the maid fastened the strings at the back, Sansa tried to calm herself, and go over again what it was that she had to do tonight. She wasn’t even entirely sure of the details of the plan, as Brienne had only told Sansa her own part; they figured it was safer that way. _‘Trust Jaime, do as he tells you’,_ Brienne had told her, one afternoon. Sansa knew that she was going to be expected to dance with him, that was part of the plan. It had taken a lot of persuasion and reassurance for Sansa to agree to that, but during their days together, Brienne had often told her tales of her journey with Jaime, and the romantic in Sansa had found it impossible to bear a grudge after hearing the heroic way that Jaime had rescued Brienne from Harrenhal.

 

“All sorted!” Chirped the maid when she’d finished tightening the dress, and Sansa turned round to look at herself in the mirror. She gasped at the person she saw looking back… She was gorgeous. She always felt like such a naïve little girl, but looking in that mirror filled her with a confidence that she wasn’t aware that she had. She didn’t look like a little girl, she looked like a strong woman. _A lion,_ she thought, before correcting herself, _no, a wolf._

 

**Brienne**

Brienne hadn’t been able to stop worrying about the wedding since she’d woken up that morning, so she’d spent most of the day in the training yard, swinging against the practice dummies. Apparently Dalton Barrel had heeded Jaime’s warning and spread the word that she was not to be touched, because although several of the gold cloaks would still glare at her, apart from Addam, nobody even so much as spoke to her. Addam Marbrand had been great, though, he always treated her with respect, and would occasionally consent to spar with her when nobody else was available. He didn’t care that she was a woman, she was a strong warrior, and that was all that mattered to him. Brienne was going to miss having someone to fight with when she went on her journey to reunite Sansa with her half-brother, but it would give her pride to have a proper quest, like all the knights did in the stories.

 

It was almost dark, and the training yard was deserted, all the other gold cloaks had either gone to their posts at the royal wedding, or gone to bed, but as Brienne would be in the main hall thanks to Jaime’s planning, she still had another hour or so before she had to go. She sighed and went to sit down on one of the benches, placing her sword down next to her, and closing her eyes, allowing herself to relax, even if just for a moment. After a few minutes she felt a hand on her shoulder, and whirled around, fist raised.

 

“Careful now, Brienne, you could hurt somebody with that…” Jaime purred, winking at her, and covering her fist with his palm.

 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting anybody! What are you doing here?”

 

“Nice to see you, too, Brienne!” Jaime joked, putting on a ridiculously high-pitched voice in an obvious attempt to sound scandalised. Brienne sighed as she realised just how much she was going to miss his japes, and allowed Jaime to intertwine her fingers with his.

 

“I just mean that you should be with the King. You are Kingsguard after all.”

 

“And so are six other men. Let one of them be with the King, it’s you that I want to be with right now,” Jaime said earnestly, seating himself beside her, not letting go of her hand. For a long while they just sat there, hands clasped tightly together, as if both were afraid to let go.

 

“I’m never going to see you again after tonight, am I?” Brienne asked Jaime, her breath hitching in her throat as the reality of her words struck her.

 

“I don’t like the word never,” Jaime replied, finally releasing her hand, so that he could move his own up to her neck and pull her head down to his shoulder.

 

“Neither do I,” Brienne admitted, “But it doesn’t make the words any less true.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Jaime agreed, jumping to his feet in front of her. “But before you go, there’s something I have to do, something I’ve been meaning to do for a long time, but somehow I never got around to.”

 

Brienne felt her cheeks reddening as she realised what Jaime meant to do. He was going to kiss her, this was it. And yet, as she let him reach his hand and stump under her arms to pull her up, she started to worry about what that would do to her. She loved him, she loved him completely, and the idea of facing a future without him had been eating away at her ever since they arrived in King’s Landing, it was something that she was going to have to deal with. But to have him kiss her? To feel his lips against hers and to realise that it would never happen again? She wasn’t sure that she’d be able to deal with that.

 

“Jaime, I…” She began, as Jaime stroked the hair out of her face. He stopped to look her in the eyes, and she marvelled for the thousandth time at how one man could look so incredibly perfect. “I love you, Jaime. I’m going to miss you more than I can describe, and I’m scared that if I let you kiss me then I’ll never be able to bring myself to leave you,” she broke eye contact with him, feeling terrible, “I’m so sorry.” She felt his hand cup her chin and lift her head to meet his eyes again.

 

“Don’t ever apologise for that, Brienne! You are you, and when you tell me that you love me, I believe you. You don’t need to kiss me to prove the truth of that, and I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to. And while I would love nothing more than to kiss you, that’s not why I stood up… There’s something else I have to do. Kneel.” Jaime smiled at her, his face unreadable as she knelt before him, and he reached out to pick up the sword that lay beside where Brienne had sat on the bench.

 

“Jaime, what are you-” Brienne didn’t get to finish her sentence before she felt the cold flat of the sword press gently against her right shoulder.

 

“In the name of the warrior I charge you to be brave,” Jaime began, moving the blade to her left shoulder, “In the name of the father I charge you to be just…” Brienne’s eyes filled with tears as Jaime completed the ceremony. “Arise as Lady Brienne of Tarth… A knight.” Brienne shakily got to her feet, consumed by emotion as Jaime pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace.

 

“Thank you, Jaime!” She spluttered elatedly, as they broke apart, both of them grinning from ear to ear. The smiles soon faded as they both realised that they soon had to part. Brienne hated goodbyes. She remembered the look on her father’s face the day she had left Tarth to join Renly’s army, and wondered what her father would think of her now. Would he be proud that she was going to rescue Sansa, or ashamed that she was working alongside the Kingslayer? She wished her father could have met Jaime. _Perhaps someday he will,_ a hopeful voice inside her head said, but she silenced it. She knew that wouldn’t be possible. After tonight she’d be wanted for treason, Sansa was the King’s property, and so by stealing her away, Brienne would be marked for execution. She may never even get to see her own father again, let alone Jaime. This really was going to be goodbye. The pained expression mirrored in Jaime’s eyes proved to Brienne that he felt the same.

 

“I just, I just want to say thank you, Brienne. For everything. You’ve made me into a better man, and even if we don’t see each other again, I want you to know that I’ll never forget you. I’ll try to be a more honourable person, and although I doubt I’ll ever be as great a knight as you are, I promise to at least try. Though I may not see your face again, you’ll be with me forever in my heart…” he gazed lovingly at her, and pressed his lips softly against her forehead, before parting, and winking at her to lighten the atmosphere, apparently uncomfortable with the level of sincerity. “No, wait, that sounds far too much like it belongs in some song, let me try that again, I’ll make it more manly.” He put on an overly gruff voice, and forced a comical frown, “Farewell, wench. Best of luck on your brave adventure.”

 

“Good bye, Ser Jaime.” Brienne whispered, before turning and running away, so that he wouldn’t see the tears streaming down her face as grief hit her like a ram.

 

**Jaime**

The candles shimmering along the hightable in the throne room reminded Jaime of the way Brienne’s blue eyes would glow like sapphires every morning when the light hit them, and he had to shake his head to clear the image. He turned to Loras Tyrell, who had been eyeing him curiously.

 

“Yes?” Jaime asked, more aggressively than he had intended to.

 

“You look troubled, Lord Commander, I just wanted to assure you that no harm is going to come to the King or my sister whilst I’m guarding them. I’m too quick with my sword for anyone to get past me.”

 

“Thanks for letting me know, Loras. Next time that I need a lesson on boosting my ego I’ll ask you. For now, get in position, and stay alert. I don’t want your arrogance and complaceny getting anyone killed. You are barely yet a man, and yet you seem to think you’re invincible. Let me make this plain – you are not. No man is.”

 

“I’ll bear that in mind, I suppose that advice might come in _handy_ " Loras sneered, before walking away to go and speak to his sister, Lady Margaery. Jaime sighed and decided that it was probably time for him to go stand by the door, the guests were already starting to arrive. He saw Cersei laughing with Osmund Kettleblack, watched as she touched his arm flirtatiously, and felt glad that he’d swapped positions with Loras. If he’d had to spend too much time in Cersei’s company tonight he might have ended up becoming a kinslayer as well as a Kingslayer.

 

“Ser Jaime,” piped a polite voice behind him, and Jaime swivelled to see who had spoken.

 

“Lady Sansa,” he smiled, bowing to her. She really did look stunning tonight, wearing a fantastic dress made of Lannister colours. Some women could look amazing in a dress, and yet he chuckled to himself as he remembered how Brienne had looked whilst wearing one. _Other women are definitely more suited to armour._ He looked down at his brother who was standing next to Sansa, awkwardly holding her hand.

 

“My dear brother, any chance you could arrange for me to sit as far away from Cersei as possible?” Tyrion joked, and Jaime laughed whilst Sansa looked mortified at the brazen way in which Tyrion had said it.

 

“Afraid my only job is to protect the King, Tyrion, so you’ll have to find some other way to avoid her.”

 

“Ah well, it was worth a try. Come on then, Sansa, we’ll just try and focus on the food, which I’m sure will be delicious!” Tyrion nodded at Jaime and took his leave, leaving Jaime alone by the door as the other Lords and Ladies piled into the room.

 

The wedding itself had been earlier in the evening, and had gone smoothly, but the wedding feast was a much more complicated affair due to the number of dishes being served, and the number of people that they needed to feed. The hall was abuzz with noise and laughter from the tables, and Jaime was anxiously scanning the room, looking for Brienne, wondering when she would slip out. Eventually he saw a large gold cloak start towards the door, and as the person neared, he could see that it was Brienne. The visor was up on his helmet, so he knew she couldn’t see his eyes, but he could see hers for the split second that she turned towards him. _Full of determination_ , he marvelled, _whereas mine own are full of regret._ As she slipped through the door, Jaime mentally started counting… In fifteen minutes it would be over. In fifteen minutes they would know whether their plan had been successful. He waited five minutes before slowly ambling up the hall, trying to remain inconspicuous. He flicked his visor down as he reached the high table.

 

“Is there a problem?” Cersei asked scornfully.

 

“Not at all, I just wanted to check on my King and Queen to ensure that they were enjoying the feast,” Jaime replied warmly.

 

“It’s lovely, Ser Jaime! Thank you!” Queen Margaery trilled, as Jaime bent to kiss her fingers as was customary. Jaime noticed ‘The Rains of Castamere’ playing in the background. _Always that same song…_

 

“I wonder, Queen Margaery, may I have this dance?” Jaime asked, knowing full well that the answer would be no, as it was traditional for the Queen to dance with her Lord husband before anybody else, and Joffrey hated to dance.

 

“I’m ever so sorry, Ser Jaime, but I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse,” Margaery replied apologetically, glancing towards her King. Jaime nodded politely, before turning to Sansa.

 

“How about you, Lady Sansa, may I have the honour?” Jaime reached out his good hand to her, which Sansa took, clutching far too tightly, and Jaime hoped that nobody would notice how nervous the girl was. Jaime followed her around the table, and could have sworn he saw Cersei narrow her eyes in contempt, but figured it was just jealousy. Jaime led Sansa on to the dance floor, and carefully drew her nearer, placing his stump slightly above her hip, but being sure not to apply any pressure. He didn’t want Sansa to feel uncomfortable. The girl shyly raised her head to look at him, fear evident upon her features.

“Are you sure we can do this?” Sansa whispered, and Jaime could feel the girl shivering against him. The temperature in the hall was very warm, and so Jaime guessed it must be nerves that were making her shake so much.

 

“Calm down, my lady, try to act naturally, and follow my lead,” he whispered back, guiding her across the floor in a slow yet graceful dance, “Brienne will be here soon, and then you’ll go with her, like we planned. You just need to dance with me for a little while so that nobody gets suspicious, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she replied, giving him a tiny nod.

 

“Good luck with everything, I really hope you can find your brother. One more thing, Sansa,” he muttered, and she looked at him expectantly, “Look after Brienne for me. She acts so tough, but she’s a gentle soul. She’s so determined to fulfil her oath, and to be a good knight, but beneath all that she’s still a woman, and she needs a friend. Please be that friend.”

 

“I will.” Sansa promised, and Jaime believed her. The rest of the dance they spent in tense silence, the time of reckoning fast approaching, as they got closer to the door. Jaime looked around, making a note of exactly where the Kingsguard were so that they wouldn’t see what was about to happen. He had checked the names of all the Goldcloaks who would be near the door, and had individually spoken to them before the feast started to tell them that they had been reassigned, and so there was very little security for people exiting the room, as suited his purposes.

 

“We’re here,” Jaime whispered when they reached the entrance of the hall, and he released Sansa’s hand, which she seemed oddly reluctant to do. Jaime knew Brienne would be waiting outside to help the girl, and it killed him to know that she was so close, and yet he still wouldn’t be able to see her. He was sorely tempted to just forget his Kingsguard duties and run away with them, but even as the thought entered his head, he quashed it. _Brienne has taught me the importance of honour, I can’t abandon mine, not even for her._

 

“Thank you,” Sansa said sincerely, giving him a kind smile, “You’re a good man, Ser Jaime.” And then she hurried towards the door, and disappeared down the corridor. Jaime turned back towards the hall, and stood solemnly at his post. _Good luck, Brienne._

**Brienne**

As soon as Sansa left the hall, Brienne jumped out of her hiding spot in one of the alcoves along the corridor, and beckoned the girl to hurry. There was no one around, but in the Red Keep that could change at any moment.

 

“Is everything ready?” Sansa asked, running along to try and keep up with Brienne as they charged down the corridor, trying to keep their footsteps as light as possible.

 

“It is,” Brienne panted, pulling Sansa round a corner, “But we can’t talk for a moment, I just have to find the right passage!” She was desperately looking around for the tapestry of Maegor the Cruel that Jaime had showed her, which opened on to a concealed stone pass that led out of the castle. He had claimed that this was one of the many secrets he had learned while serving under King Aerys. When they reached it, Brienne pulled back the tapestry and stepped inside, before guiding a stunned Sansa in.

 

“There’s a secret passageway just hiding behind a tapestry?” Sansa asked, shocked. The girl was so mature in so many ways, and yet when it came to secrets, Sansa was clearly as fascinated as a child would be.

 

“Follow me, and try to keep your voice down,” Brienne said, “We’re walking inside the walls, so we don’t want anybody to hear us.” They continued on in silence and darkness, feeling their way along the wall, and freezing in suspense whenever one of them accidentally dislodged a stone and it made a loud sound. After what felt like a lifetime, Brienne saw a pinprick of light up ahead of her, and she hastened towards it, greedy for an end to the darkness. As they got closer, the pinprick became a hole, and then the hole became an exit, and after several moments they finally emerged, gasping, out of the cramped little passageway, and into the great expanse of night outside of the castle.

 

Brienne finally allowed herself a deep breath; they had done it, they had really done it. _I’ve rescued Sansa and can fulfil my oath!_ She turned around to smile at the young girl, and gasped in horror. Sansa’s face was captured with a look of shock, and her auburn hair was dishevelled from all the running, but Brienne couldn’t focus on that. Instead, she focused on the crossbow bolt emerging from the girl’s neck, as Sansa toppled, and collapsed to the ground, dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Yes, I know. Please don’t hate me!!!


	14. I Must Not Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short note before I begin - those of you who are squeamish at graphic descriptions of pain may wish to skip Brienne’s chapter after the second paragraph. I will post a less detailed summary of it in the end notes for you.

“What have you done?” Jaime shouted in anguish, slamming his fist down on the table in the White Room, looking furiously at Cersei; he’d never felt this much hatred for another person aside from Aerys.

 

“She tried to escape, we can’t be seen to let things go. We’re Lannisters and we have a reputation… Or perhaps you’d forgotten that?” Cersei’s voice was like a knife through Jaime’s heart, reminding him of the madness and greed of the family he’d dedicated his life to protecting. He closed his eyes, remembering with a pang how hopeful he’d been a few hours ago when Brienne had left with Sansa. It must’ve happened soon after that, and yet Cersei kept it a secret until all the guests had left, until she had Jaime all to herself. She wanted to torture him with this knowledge, see him react… _I must not break, I need to stay strong for Brienne’s sake._

 

“And Brienne? What did you do with her after you murdered a little girl right before her eyes?”

 

“That traitorous cow is rotting in the black dungeons.”

 

“The dungeons? Brienne is a highborn lady! At the very least she deserves a tower cell!” Jaime screamed, outraged.

 

“At the very least she deserves an execution!” Cersei screamed back, with equal vehemence, “She has committed treason against _your_ king, perhaps you’d forgotten.”

 

“I have forgotten nothing, but she deserves a fair trial. I have travelled with her, she has saved my life on many occasions, house Lannister owes her a debt; we can’t just leave her there.”

 

“Believe me, Jaime, I have no intention on _just leaving her there_. That’s merely a fitting place for her to reside until I can decide on exactly what her punishment should be.”

 

“Cersei, sister, please-”

 

“I have to admit, Jaime,” she interrupted him, “I have never seen much intelligence from the woman, so am very curious as to how she managed to plot this escape without help. I plan on asking her soon, and am _very_ interested in what she might have to say. Anyway, I’ll leave you. No doubt, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you must be very concerned about how easy it was for her to steal Sansa Stark away. It’s lucky that the City Watch were paying enough attention to the outer perimeters of the Keep.” Cersei flashed him a malicious smile, and then left him, closing the door silently behind her.

 

“AAAARGH!” Jaime smashed his fist against the wall, before reeling in pain when he realised that he’d used his left arm, and the tender flesh at the end of his stump had connected with the cold hard stone. His father had given him a golden hand to attach to his left arm, but Jaime was loathe to wear it, as he felt that it made him seem pretentious, and he didn’t want Brienne to think that he’d become the same arrogant man that he had been before she’d changed him into a better person.

 

He knew that Brienne wouldn’t tell Cersei anything, and she certainly wouldn’t implicate Jaime, but that just scared him more. _Cersei knows I was involved, and she knows how much I care for Brienne. She’s going to hurt her._ The thought of Brienne being tortured for covering for Jaime made him feel sick to the core, and yet, he didn’t know what to do. If he confessed his treasons, then he’d be in no position to help Brienne, and like as not Cersei would still take revenge on her anyway. He wasn’t sure how much time he’d have before Cersei would do something terrible; he had to think ahead. He sat down at his table, and began to plan an escape.

 

**Brienne**

_Renly. Catelyn. Arya. Sansa._ The darkness extended all around her, the only light a faint candle flickering in the distance. _Renly. Catelyn. Arya. Sansa._ The cold chains around her wrists dug into her flesh and the wall pressing against her back was causing her to ache all over. _Renly. Catelyn. Arya. Sansa._ The names of all the people that she’d failed echoed inside her head, as the hours stretched on, leaving her in an ever-deepening abyss of sadness and despair. _Sansa was my last chance at honour, and I failed her, like I failed everyone before her. She trusted me, and I let her down._ She could still see the young girl’s eyes, wide with horror before her body slumped against the ground. Brienne tried to wipe a tear from her eye, but her chains wouldn’t allow her that much movement. She wondered why she’d been left down here, rather than being killed. She wasn’t sure which she would have preferred. Death would be a mercy for her, she deserved it for all the lives she’d ruined; but maybe this was her punishment, this guilt, this darkness. This never-ending darkness…

 

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. They were persistent, heavy, but at the same time cautious- a man’s footsteps. _Jaime_. He’d come to rescue her, she knew that he wouldn’t have left her down here. For the first time since Sansa had died she felt a glimmer of hope. It soon died when she saw the unfamiliar face that opened the door; it was a man, but it was not Jaime. An old man with tired eyes approached, carrying a bright tallow candle, which he placed on the floor in the centre of the cell.

 

“Brienne of Tarth,” he croaked, but it was not a frail croak, rather the voice of a powerful man who had seen too much and said too little. “My name is Qyburn, the Queen Regent sent me. I am a maester, or rather, I was. Now my talents are… A little less educational.”

 

“Why are you here?” Brienne asked him, hating the tone of vulnerability in her voice, but feeling too depressed to change it.

 

“Queen Cersei is very interested as to how you managed to escape. I said that I would ask you for her.” He stopped talking, and rummaged around his cloak for a moment, before drawing out a sharp carving knife. It was not new, nor had it been cleaned very well, for if Brienne squinted she could make out flecks of dried blood on the blade. “Do you know what this is?” he asked her.

 

“A knife.” She replied, confused as to his purpose. He was playing a silly little game when the last remaining Stark had been murdered just hours before. But the man gave her a queer smile, and shook his head.

 

“No,” he replied, “This is a truth serum.” He ran his finger gently over the side of the blade, almost lovingly. “Men are liars, women too, especially when asked questions that they’d rather not answer. The citadel have tried for centuries to create a potion that will force the recipient to answer truthfully, and yet none have been successful. Some maesters still try to create one, others have decided that it is impossible, but I know different. There is a surefire way to arrive at the truth, and it is not by using a potion. So this is my truth serum, and once the queen arrives, I will demonstrate how it works.”

 

Brienne felt the tendrils of fear start to crawl through her, the cold sadness and guilt being replaced by pure, unadulterated terror. She’d seen men die in battles, and had taken a fair amount of hits herself, but this was different. This time there would be no adrenaline, no quick stab of pain before being relieved; this man meant to drag the agony out, he meant to make it last. He was going to keep hurting her until she said Jaime’s name, but she knew that she never would, _I must not break, I need to stay strong for Jaime’s sake._ The sound of Cersei’s footsteps coming down the corridor made Brienne’s heart start to beat rapidly, the dread rising within threatening to drown her. The blonde beauty poked her head inside the cell, before entering fully, and closing the door with a creak. Brienne had always been secretly jealous of women like Cersei for their looks, but now she was almost glad of her own ugliness. What good was it to be beautiful if you could be so cruel underneath it all? Brienne may never be beautiful, but she also knew that she would never be this cruel. _I may never get to be anything again, tonight could be the night I die._

 

“Who helped you?” Cersei hissed menacingly, kneeling slightly to look Brienne in the face.

 

“Nobody.” Brienne lied, with all the confidence she could muster.

 

“Liar!” Cersei spat, slapping Brienne sharply across the cheek. The movement stung more than it otherwise would have, due to the numbness that the cold had created within her nerve endings. Her cheek continued to tingle long after Cersei’s hand had disappeared, and the sound of flesh on flesh bounced around the confined walls of the dungeon cell. She turned to the old man, “Qyburn. Make her talk.” He nodded and paced forward to stand above Brienne. She wasn’t used to having to look up at people, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, a silent plea not to do this. If he read her expression, then he didn’t listen.

 

She saw a flash of silver cross her eyeline before feeling an excruciating stab of agony as the sharp knife pierced the tendons of her little finger. Qyburn jerkily scraped the knife further down, tearing open the flesh as he did so. She could feel the blood running in tiny rivulets down her elevated hand, and somewhere, someone was screaming, but all that was secondary to the overwhelming pain from the trench of blood, skin, and bone that had once been her finger. Qyburn withdrew the knife and stepped back, but Brienne could still hear the screams echoing around her. After a moment she realised that the screaming person was herself, and she forced herself to stop, panting heavily as she tried to ignore the tormenting throb of her ruined appendage.

 

“N-no more. Please no more!” She begged, shivering as the agony coursed through her. _I must not break._

 

“Who helped you?” Cersei asked again, and Brienne thought she heard a flicker of pity in the queen’s voice. _Maybe she’s not truly evil after all, perhaps she’s become like this because she's bitter about Jaime._

 

“Nobody helped me!” Brienne lied again, determined never to speak Jaime’s name, no matter what.

 

“You are a liar, you beast, a big, fat, ugly liar. You stole my brother from me, and you turned him against us! You are a vile creature, and I will make you suffer for what you’ve done,” Cersei turned once more to Qyburn, “I’ve heard that flaying can make even a grown warrior betray his secrets. I’d like to see if that’s true.” 

 

Brienne was weak from the torture, and the blood from her ravaged finger was still trickling down her arm, leaving sticky streaks everywhere it touched, but she managed to shake her head violently in a pathetic attempt to stop Qyburn. It didn’t work. Her world turned to blinding darkness as the knife dug deep within the flesh of her palm, and slowly peeled back the skin… And Brienne screamed.

 

**Jaime**

They came for him during the hour of the wolf. Three armoured guards burst down the door to The White Room, and yanked him up from his seat.

 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked furiously, struggling in vain to throw off the men.

 

“Queen Regent asked to see you,” one of them answered simply, letting go of Jaime to open the door which had slammed itself shut again. Jaime used the moment to his advantage, and wrenched his sword free of its scabbard, swinging it round to knock off the two men still clutching him. They backed away a step, drawing their own weapons.

 

“Ser Jaime, don’t be a fool. Come with us,” the one who had opened the door insisted, walking forward, blade in hand. But Jaime wasn’t about to go placidly without a fight. They may take him, but not willingly, never willingly. _I must not break._ Had Brienne told them the truth? No, she was too honourable, too damned loyal, and he felt guilty for even thinking that she had. He wished that she had, he’d rather not think about what they might have done to her to try and make her confess his involvement. His apprehensions were interrupted by one of the guards lunging forwards in an attempt to knock Jaime down. Jaime quickly parried the blow with his own sword, and then it was a song of steel as all three guards charged on him. Jaime held them off for a fair few moments, but in the end it was hopeless; the space was too small, and Jaime was too tired. One of the guards knocked his sword across the room, whilst another drove his knee into Jaime’s stomach. The air drained from Jaime’s lungs, and he collapsed on the floor, defeated.

 

“Pathetic…” One of the men muttered, as he picked up Jaime, and two of them held Jaime securely against their bodies. They dragged him along the corridor, until they eventually arrived at the Maidenvault, and knocked on Cersei’s door. She opened it, and looked surprised for a moment to see Jaime slumped against their shoulders, a bruise already starting to develop on his wrist, but she soon smiled at the men and bid them stand outside, beckoning Jaime into the room. He followed reluctantly.

 

“Dear brother,” she began, and Jaime could tell by the false sweetness of her tone that it was over, “It would seem you’ve been a very naughty boy.”

 

“Well, I did have an affair with the queen for a time, so-” Jaime’s sarcastic response was cut short by Cersei’s hand streaking out to slap him hard across the face, and he sneered at her. If these were to be his last moments, then he would make sure that she got no pleasure out of them.

 

“You helped that beast steal Sansa Stark. You plotted against the King you swore to protect. She told us. What do you have to say?”

 

“Well, at least I didn’t kill him this time, so I suppose that must count as an improvement! And her name is Brienne.”

 

“Brienne the betrayer, it would seem.”

 

“Brienne didn’t betray me. She has loyalty, Cersei, honour; a concept that you wouldn’t understand.” Jaime was pleased to realise that even after all of this he could still speak with pride when it came to Brienne, she could still keep him grounded.

 

“Enough! I’ve had enough. You are both traitors to the crown, and you will both suffer for your crimes. For now you can rot in the same dungeon as her… The Lannisters always win, Jaime. You would turn against your family? Well now we’ve turned on you.” Cersei glared at him as she finished, and Jaime kept his face stoic, but inside he felt a glimmer of happiness in amongst the pain. He knew he was going to die, that much was obvious, but at least he could spend those last few moments with Brienne.

 

**Brienne**

The door to her cell swung open, and Jaime was shoved roughly inside. His right hand was shackled to the wall, whilst the stump of his left hand was hung at his side. His hair was dishevelled, and sweat clung to his brow as he lifted his eyes to stare at Brienne. ‘I’m sorry’ he seemed to mouth, but she was so delirious from the agony in her right hand that she could have imagined it. The guard who had brought him in exited, leaving her alone with Jaime. She wondered if she’d stopped screaming yet, it was hard to tell in amongst the cacophony of torment bombarding her brain. She met his gaze, and took a deep breath. If he was here, that meant that Cersei knew he was involved, but she hoped that Jaime didn’t think that she’d betrayed him. She couldn’t bear the thought of Jaime hating her.

 

“I, I didn’t,” she spluttered, blood dripping from her mouth as she spoke, the swollen lips still inflamed from where Qyburn had repeatedly punched her face. Jaime stretched his leg out, and pressed his foot ever so gently against hers, the touch almost impalpable.

 

“I know,” He replied, softly, and she began to weep as Jaime sang her a sad and gentle lullaby.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, none of the cheery optimism of the last chapter :P As usual, please let me know what you thought! Also, I’ve entered a Jaime/ Brienne fanfic competition, and it’d mean the world to me if you could vote for ‘The Way Forward’, as well as ‘Whatever you want to be’. Link to vote is here - http://jaimexbrienne-fanfic.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> For those who didn’t read Brienne’s chapter because of the graphic pain, basic summary – torture. Lots of torture. But she didn’t tell them that Jaime was involved.


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